HOSTage-0
by Atakiri Mizuyuki
Summary: When Yami Bakura realizes he's losing his latest Shadow Game against Yami Yugi, Yami Bakura plays dirty and tries to steal the puzzle by force. But when instead the Pharaoh's soul and his own trade items, Yami might just be in his greatest danger yet... ((NO ROMANCE; Revamp of HOSTage))
1. Prologue: An Idea

PROLOGUE -_-_- An Idea

Yami Bakura leaned against the wall of the alley, glancing down at his fingernails. It was cold, and mist was rising from the ground, but he didn't feel it. He was too pissed off to notice some environmental inconvenience.

The _roar_ of a motorcycle echoed through the alleyway.

"About damn time," he spat, pushing himself off of the wall. A shape appeared out of the mist, quickly growing larger and more defined. Not that Yami Bakura had any doubts about who the person was; who else would be riding a motorcycle at one-thirty in the morning through the narrow alleyways of the black heart of Domino City?

"You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago," he said angrily as Marik stopped beside him and took off his helmet. Marik scowled at him and put the kick-stand of the motorcycle down. Yami Bakura noticed the green paint job and arched an eyebrow. "How many of these things do you have?"

"As many as I want," Marik replied without missing a beat. He leaned against the motorcycle and crossed his arms, the Millennium Rod glimmering at his side. Yami Bakura couldn't help but glance at it—and the Egyptian hand gripping it tightly enough to break the skin. "So? What news on Yugi Mutou?" Yami Bakura scowled and folded his own arms.

"What do you expect me to say? That he's suddenly fallen over dead and he left the Millennium Puzzle to you in his will?"

"That'd be terrific." Yami Bakura scowled.

"He _sleeps _with the bloody thing on," he replied, looking away from the arrogant smirk on Marik's face.

"So you mean you don't have it," Marik said, the slightest hint of condescension in his voice. Yami Bakura ground his teeth together but forced himself to cool off before saying anything.

"It means that I'd have to sleep with Yugi Mutou to get it while he can't fight back," he spat. Marik's smirk pissed him off—a lot. He chose to ignore Marik for Marik's own good. He would _kill_ that pest the moment he had his Millennium Rod. He'd swear it on Zorc's name—he _would_ kill that little bastard.

"Then what do you propose you do about it?" Marik asked, tightening his arms across his chest.

_Not now, I can't kill him now._

_ But there are no witnesses…_

"_I_ intend to bide my time, just as I _have_ been doing—" he started.

"And look how far _that's_ gotten you," Marik pointed out. Next thing Yami Bakura knew he had his hand twisted in the collar of Marik's shirt and the Egyptian was hanging a couple inches off the ground.

"_I _was doing _fine _ before _you_ decided to show your ugly fake-tanned face and screw with Yugi's head!" he shouted. Marik wasn't smirking now—he wasn't scared, but he was certainly not pleased. "Now _you're _here with your little army of Rare Hunters and you've scared the little bastard to the point where he's more Yami than Yugi! How the hell am I supposed to do anything when he's been pushed into a corner and is fighting like it?!" He dropped Marik, who managed to catch himself neatly on his feet, bending his knees only slightly to take the force. "I'll get it, just watch. And with the puzzle Yugi will be powerless, and you'll get your damn little god card and I'll get both the puzzle and the rod." He stared pointedly at the Millennium Rod, not bothering to try and hide his greed at all this time. Marik held it out, his fist clamped tightly around it.

"You want this?" he asked, his voice angry. Apparently he didn't like being picked up by the collar of his shirt. "Then you'll do as I damn well say, won't you? The more of a threat I am, the more he'll need his friends. Don't just hide your host away—he's more than a temporary suit, he's your greatest asset. Learn about him—and after a while, you can finally destroy the boy's soul completely and act well enough that Yugi won't know he's gone until long after you've put the puzzle around your own neck."

Yami Bakura scowled at him. But he couldn't deny the truth of what he'd said. He didn't allow his host out much; he had a body again, and he was damn well going to use it. And as such, he didn't like to be around Yugi too often—the less Yugi thought of him, the less likely he was to realize that Yami Bakura had returned, the better for his plans. But that little Egyptian bastard had a good point—Yugi was soft in the truest sense. If Yami Bakura put his host in danger, Yugi would panic. He could easily force Yugi to do anything he wanted, that way. Except for one big problem.

The Pharaoh.

It might have been easy to break the control of the stunted kid with the hair taller than he was, but the Pharaoh was something else entirely. His calm couldn't be stolen—you couldn't steal what wasn't there. And as a thief he'd know. The Pharaoh didn't wear his cool like a mask like most people; it was in his very _skin_, like Yugi wore his innocence and Yami Bakura wore his hatred.

Marik's skin was too poorly sprayed to see anything.

Yami Bakura had fallen against the wall again, but now he pushed himself off with a violence, registering but ignoring how Marik's eyes narrowed, though the rest of him didn't move, as if he was preparing himself for Yami Bakura to attack. It wasn't entirely as unlikely as Marik might have thought—Yami Bakura wouldn't have to bother with Yugi _or_ that damned Pharaoh if he just killed Marik and took the rod. But Marik had his uses, and he supposed for the time being he would try to use him.

Besides, Marik's death would give Yugi hope, and why would he bother with that?

"Fine," he said, although he was well aware nothing had really been determined. "Why don't you return to that cancer-causer you call a tanning booth and make yourself a _ little_ darker? After all, right now you only look like someone left you in the oven a _little_ over-long." He arched an eyebrow, encouraging Marik to get his point quickly.

He turned on his heel and walked towards the end of the alley, feeling the Millennium Ring's weight against his chest. It wanted more than just itself, and he would be happy to deliver as soon as he could.

Against his motorcycle Marik scowled in disgust. He grabbed his helmet and shoved it on, strapping it in place. He would _kill_ that British prick as soon as he had the God Cards. Upon the name of the new pharaoh—himself—he would.

He slammed his foot violently against the kickstand and roared out of the alleyway.

Somewhere many miles away, Yugi slept peacefully in his bed, a concerned shadow perched on the edge of the mattress, the figure's face set with worry.


	2. Chapter 1: Insomnia

Nothing but a major overhaul was going to fix the scene with Bakura when they were at school, so I had no choice but to make it a little less awful, as I don't want to be rewriting huge chunks of a fan-fiction I'm doing just for fun. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and my apologies for that scene! ;;

CHAPTER 1 -_-_- Insomnia

Yugi brushed his teeth and tried not to drift off while the Pharaoh lectured him about staying safe, avoiding enemies, and not forgetting that he _was_ famous. "Stay away from mobs, avoid girls that breathe too deeply, if they say they're your biggest fan ask for their name so you could file a restraining order later", etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseam. Yugi didn't really see the point of it—he wasn't _that _much of a celebrity. He hadn't even qualified as a finalist for the Battle City tournament yet, and it seemed like he might not be able to, either. Sure, he had somewhat of a reputation—the kid that beat Kaiba, the kid that beat Pegasus. He knew the pools for him as a favorite were strong—almost as strong as Kaiba's. Not that he kept track of the betting pools. Damn Joey.

But this was so much more than a game, those guys had no idea—his friends were constantly in danger, and even his very soul was put on the line, over and over and over. There was maniac after maniac demanding Shadow Games, and nothing Yugi could do about it. Turn down a duel? Not possible—not while he had the Millennium Puzzle, and not while he held onto an Egyptian God Card. His opponents always made sure the consequences of refusing were too high to do so. And no one could help him, because he didn't want to hurt them. Not Joey, not Tea, not Tristan, not even Seto "His Highness" Kaiba. Pffft, Seto. Running some kind of evil tournament. Did he have any idea what his creation had turned into? He probably didn't mean to kill anyone. … Probably. God knew the Kaiba wouldn't worry too much if Yugi wound up in the obituaries after suffering from a strange coma after a "harmless" card game…

He really _had _to tell his friends to keep him on life support, for the love of god keep him on life support, if he ever fell into a "coma"—such as the kind that happened when one's soul was sent to the Shadow Realm.

He couldn't quite suppress a shudder, and he glanced up in the mirror where the spectral illusion of the Pharaoh stood behind him, his arms crossed and his face set in a frown. He wasn't mad at Yugi, just… not content. Yugi knew why—Yugi hadn't bothered trying to shield his thoughts, which he could do if he thought about it, and so the Pharaoh, Yami, had heard these just fine. And the Pharaoh knew exactly why Yugi was thinking them.

Yugi was afraid. Still afraid.

_What if the god cards get stolen? What if I lose my next duel? People won't leave me alone, what do I do? I have so much homework backlogged because of the tournament, I'm going to drown. What if I get challenged to another Shadow Game and I lose this time? Bakura's been gone for a week, is he okay? What's going to happen to my friends? Who will Marik hurt next time?_

"I'm sorry," he admitted finally, sighing. He put his fists against the sink and leaned over it, his eyes closed and his toothbrush still gripped in his hand. He couldn't feel the Pharaoh do it, but he could tell Yami'd put a hand on his physical counterpart's shoulder.

_It's alright,_ he promised Yugi. He sounded genuine, but that wasn't anything unusual—the Pharaoh didn't lie about anything, at least as far as Yugi knew. Or maybe he did—Yugi wasn't really sure he wanted to know if the Pharaoh did or not. He sighed again.

"I'm frightened," he admitted. The Pharaoh already knew that—he would be able to feel it through their connection like the vibrating of wires. But it helped to say it aloud. He could tell the Pharaoh nodded. "I don't want to lose any of you guys; these stakes are high. _ Too_ high. If I didn't have your fate and the fate of the world on my shoulders, I might just drop card games altogether."

_No you wouldn't_. It wasn't accusing, it was just the truth. The Pharaoh was never rude or sarcastic to him; he simply called things as he saw them. And the Pharaoh knew Yugi too well to believe for an instant that his latest statement could hold any validity. _You live for games, Yugi. Your desire to play them flows through your veins more thickly than blood. … Tell me, what's the chemical formula of glucose?_

"Um…" Yugi started, knowing that he should remember it. Didn't he have a biology test coming up later that day?

_What is the attack, defense, type, and attribute of Silent Magician Lv 4?_

"One-thousand Attack, One-thousand Defense, Light, Spellcaster," he answered in an instant, unable to feel just a bit proud that he could answer so quickly. The Pharaoh nodded to himself.

_And that monster isn't even in your deck,_ he noted. The triumphant smile slipped from Yugi's face and he sighed, getting the point.

"I know," he said helplessly. "I know. I just… I feel so useless! I can't do anything to protect all of you, and I even need to rely on _you_ for my _own_ safety! I can't do anything! Joey can fight in a real fight if he needs to; Tea's mind is so strong and sure, and Tristan's so confident! But what can I do? Memorize some numbers on cards. Can I really make a future out of that? I know some people can, and have, but… I'm not like them. I don't have what it takes." He leaned against the sink despondently, not really looking at anything. He could tell the Pharaoh was not pleased.

_Yugi!_ he snapped, genuinely angry. Yugi hunched his shoulders. _Don't say that! You aren't useless—there's a_ lot _you can do! Your happiness and your very soul brought all of us together to become the friends we are now! Your optimism and encouragement not only_ do _but _have _brought all of us back from the brink in times of trouble! When an opponent or a particularly difficult situation has me shaken up, it's always been _your_ support and friendship that has given me the courage and strength to pull through! And you're an incredible duelist in your own right, as well! Do not put down your own skills! _

Yugi didn't say anything for a moment, then he sighed heavily.

"Then I'm doomed to life as a support character?"

The Pharaoh frowned audibly.

_Yugi, why are you acting like this? This isn't like you—are you sick?_ Yugi put a hand over his face and shook his head.

_It isn't fair of me to be scaring the Pharaoh like this,_ he thought in the deepest part of his mind, a part he knew the Pharaoh couldn't reach. _I don't have any right to let my worry change who I am; my friends are strong for me, and I need to be strong for them. I know I have their support, and I have to stop squandering that by letting my hopelessness get the best of me!_ He drew his hand into a fist and smiled apologetically into the mirror.

"I've been having trouble sleeping, which you know about," he admitted, "and I guess it has me feeling more down than usual. Things just seem to be getting so out of hand lately. But I won't let it beat me! I'll keep going no matter what!"

The Pharaoh smiled, and even though it was a slight expression, it still filled Yugi with strength.

_I'm glad_, was all the Pharaoh said. Yugi's smile warmed.

"You're right; I really shouldn't be worrying so much. There isn't much I can do, but what I can, I should. Everyone has their problems—but when we all join together, we become unstoppable!" The Pharaoh nodded to himself.

_Now_ that _sounds like my partner_. He had been leaning against the reflection of the counter, but now he straightened and stuck his hands in his pockets. Even though he was just a sourceless reflection in the mirror, the Millennium Puzzle around his neck still caught the light. _Glucose is C__6__H__12__O__6__ by the way._

Yugi opened his mouth to say something else.

"Yugi! Are you on the phone at this hour? You need to eat or you'll be late for school!" his grandfather called. Yugi panicked and threw his toothbrush into the sink before starting to pull on his uniform.

"Summon Skull! Attack his Lifepoints directly!" Yugi shouted, pointing and shouting even if though his duel disk was safely tucked away in his backpack. Joey let out a loud groan and tilted back in his chair, putting a hand over his face.

"That stupid Needle Wall!" he shouted in dismay. "My dice never roll the right number! Ah jeez…" He looked at Yugi and the enormous smile on his face between his fingers. Joey dropped his hand and gave his friend a sort of irritated smile.

"You win again, Yug," he said, waving his hand dismissively over the card field the two had made on their desks. Yugi had won by a landslide, not that anyone watching was surprised. Yugi didn't usually lose; in fact, none of them could remember the last time he had lost.

Yugi's smile widened and he started gathering his cards.

"I guess," he admitted, "but I think we both won—that was a really fun game, Joey! And tight, too! I'm sure I felt my heart stop for a couple of seconds!" Joey snorted.

"Whaddya mean? Ya won by more 'n a landslide, Yug—ya buried me in an avalanche!" Yugi laughed at the joke as Joey started gathering his cards into one pile as well.

"Yeah," Yugi said, "but a couple of turns ago when you had three monsters on the field and I didn't have any, I was sure I was toast!" It took a second, but Joey smiled.

"Yeah, I had ya on the ropes there, didn't I?" He tilted his head back and laughed, and Yugi nodded knowingly.

"Hello there, guys." The two of them looked up at Bakura, who was standing at the side of their desks. They hadn't noticed him among the cloud of students who had wanted to watch the duel; even if most of them weren't duelists themselves, they'd heard about the Battle City tournament and knew a little of Yugi's and even Joey's reputations. After this duel many of them wondered why on earth so many people would be even interested in such a boring game; others were now even more interested in it than before.

"Bakura! You're ba—" Yugi started, glad to see him after almost a week. He stopped. Bakura looked ragged. He didn't look like he'd been hurt, just exhausted, like he hadn't slept in a while. Like he hadn't slept in a couple weeks.

"Oi, Bakura, ya look _awful_!" Joey said, ever the tactful one. Bakura winced.

"Yeah," he admitted apologetically, as if it was something he had to feel sorry for, "I don't seem to have been sleeping well lately." Yugi's heart went out to him—he knew what it was like to have recent sleeping troubles. And he especially knew what it was like to bear a Millennium Item—even if Bakura's had been thrown into the forest on the Duelist Kingdom island, bearing a Millennium Item for any length of time was still a burden, and Bakura had a special place in Yugi's heart for it.

Bakura blinked owlishly and rocked for a moment on his feet. That wasn't just "not sleeping well". What on earth was with Bakura?

"Is anything the matter?" Yugi asked, quickly putting his deck in his backpack before turning back around. The crowd had thinned out, but it just made Bakura seem smaller and more tired.

Bakura shook his head. He staggered slightly, putting one hand to his forehead as if he was reeling. Yugi's arms twitched forward in response, but he managed to stop himself. Bakura wasn't falling, although it looked close. The bags under his eyes were almost as dark as the skin of Joey's Red-Eyes Black Dragon.

"Just not… sleeping well…" he said. He turned away before Yugi could say anything else and slipped into desk. He didn't do it, but Yugi could tell that Bakura wanted nothing more than to rest his head on his desk.

Yugi wanted to give Bakura his space, but he wanted to make sure he was okay even more. He stood up and walked over to Bakura's desk, which was only a couple down from his own.

"I think you should've stayed in bed," he said seriously, leaning against a currently unoccupied desk next to Bakura's. Bakura shook his head, and when he was done he squeezed his eyes closed and opened them very suddenly.

"No, no, I'm okay, really," he said, trying to smile reassuringly and failing spectacularly. "It's not that bad; I'm fine. I'm just a little… tired." His eyes fluttered closed, and he started to tilt to one side before abruptly catching himself.

"Come on," Yugi said, his voice firm and no-nonsense. He stood up and pulled Bakura to his feet—he didn't resist at all—and put one of Bakura's arms around his shoulders; he had to stand on his tip-toes to be any kind of support. "Let's go to the nurse's office. You can lie down there." Bakura looked like he wanted to protest, but no sound came. He let his head drop, his face hidden behind his white bangs.

Joey noticed and had just opened his mouth and stood to his feet when the bell rang. Like a stage cue, the teacher walked in.

"Mutou! Wheeler! Bakura! What do you think you're doing?!" the teacher demanded. Bakura jumped, putting a surprising amount of strain on Yugi. Once he'd settled, Yugi looked over his shoulder, but found that that didn't work; he lifted Bakura's arm up and peered from under it at their teacher.

"Bakura's not feeling well," he explained. "I was going to take him to the nurse's office." The teacher frowned, his brow furrowing. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"And why can't he go himself?" Yugi paused.

"Because… he's… not… feeling… well…" he explained slowly, confused by the teacher's confusion. There was a pause, and then the teacher nodded huffily.

"Alright. Mutou, take Ryou to the nurse's office. You have ten minutes! Now go!" Joey suddenly leapt up, slamming his hands on his desk.

"Now wait just a minute, there! I'm gonna go too!" he shouted. "No way Yug can lift Bakura all by hisself! An' ten minutes i'n't enough time for _anyone_ to get to the nurse's office an' back when they're carryin' a sick—" Yugi held up a hand.

"It's okay, Joey," he said, smiling reassuringly at him. "I'll be fine with Bakura. You stay here and pay attention for me, okay?" Joey glared at him for a second, then at the teacher, then turned back to Yugi. With a resigned sigh he dropped back into his seat.

"Alright, Yug, whate'er ya say." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and putting his feet up on the desk. Yugi started shuffling away, holding Bakura—who was slowly becoming heavier and heavier with each moment that passed—and listening to the teacher berate Joey for his "poor posture", which he knew Joey was absorbing none of.

"Ten minutes, Mutou!" the teacher repeated right before Yugi made it out the door. Yugi nodded once, thinking secretly to himself that the teacher really needed to lighten up, and maybe play a game of Duel Monsters.

_Yugi._ Yugi didn't stop shuffling with Bakura; it had taken a while, but he'd finally learned how to internalize reactions to the Pharaoh's more abrupt emergences.

_What's up, Pharaoh?_ He could feel the Pharaoh's unease deep inside of him; Yami had been watching everything, but he hadn't said much since their conversation in the bathroom.

_Yugi. Doesn't Bakura's condition seem strange to you?_ the Pharaoh asked. Yugi blinked in surprise, but kept walking, feeling Bakura's weight drag against him._ He was gone for nearly seven days in a row, and he suddenly arrives today, looking as if he hasn't slept in weeks. Doesn't any of this seem suspicious to you?_ Yugi frowned and shifted Bakura's arm into a more comfortable position.

_I guess,_ he admitted, _especially when you put it that way. But what could it mean? I don't think Bakura's home-life is too bad, and it's not like he'd be staying up countless nights and fighting in this tournament,_ he added. _Maybe he's just been sick, and the sleeplessness is part of that._ He could feel the Pharaoh consenting to these points.

_True, but his condition still doesn't seem right. He might be exhausted, but he doesn't seem sick. And whenever we've seen him he's been relatively happy—compared to you and Tristan and especially Joey, he may not be too energetic, but he's always been better than this. This doesn't sit right with me, my partner._ Yugi frowned as he helped Bakura down a staircase.

_It doesn't sit right with me either,_ he admitted,_ but there's nothing we can do right now. Bakura's almost asleep as it is, and I can't learn anything until he's rested some._ He felt the Pharaoh ascent to this.

_Very well._ Yugi could feel the Pharaoh's presence start to lessen. _I will trust it unto you, then_. He felt the Pharaoh recede until he was just a soft glow of consciousness somewhere in the back of his mind, just a little stronger than if he was sleeping.

The Pharaoh was watching.

He always watched over Yugi.

"Come on, Bakura," Yugi said, his voice cheerful and reassuring. "We're almost there. Just down the hall." Bakura's eyelids fluttered in response, and Yugi felt him become even heavier. Once Bakura had rested some, Yugi could ask him in more detail—and with more pressure—about what was wrong, and what he could do to help. He just hoped Bakura would let him.

Yugi was almost sure his back was going to snap when he finally managed to reach the nurse's office and push the door open. By now Bakura was more out of it than in, and Yugi had to physically push him onto the bed and straighten out his legs for him. He leaned over and panted once Bakura was lying, seemingly already unconscious, on the bed.

After he'd pulled himself together a little—and some of the soreness in his back and shoulders eased away—Yugi took a careful look at Bakura's face.

He didn't seem hurt in any way; just tired. Exhausted, body and soul. There were deep circles under his eyes, and even as he slept his eyelids fluttered as if he was having a horribly vivid nightmare. Even in sleep Bakura looked troubled and helpless. There weren't any more clues that he could see than last time.

Yugi looked around, abruptly realizing that the nurse hadn't moved to help him. He noticed a sign on the door and sighed to himself—the nurse was out for today. Of course she would be.

He turned back to Bakura, who was laying on his back with his arms sprawled out to the sides and his legs half-bent, like he was somewhere between sleeping on his back and sleeping on his side.

"Hey Bakura," he said quietly, not really expecting Bakura to answer. Still, it was more polite to check. "Will you be okay if I leave you here alone to sleep?"

"Don't go… Yugi…" Bakura muttered, forcing his eyes open. For a moment he frowned, as if he hadn't meant to say that at all and it had just slipped out. Yugi blinked in surprise.

"You're still awake!" Bakura nodded weakly, tipping his chin up and down in minute gestures.

"I'm sorry… you should get to class," he said. Yugi frowned at the sudden change.

"Bakura…"

Neither of them spoke for a moment, then Bakura closed his eyes. He opened them again, and when he spoke, the words came slowly, as if they were some terrible confession.

"I've been… really lonely this last week…" he admitted. "It's been…" His eyelids fluttered. "…I've been so alone…" His eyes stayed closed this time. Yugi looked at the clock; it had already been fifteen minutes—he was late as it was, so he could see no harm in staying for a while.

"I'd be happy to stick around," he said, smiling at Bakura, in a way he hoped was reassuring, and sitting on the edge of the bed. Even though Bakura couldn't see Yugi's, the edges of Bakura's lips pulled up into his own small smile.

"Thanks," he said, a bit of the relief he was trying to hide showing through. There was silence for a second, and then Yugi was unable to resist asking.

"What's wrong, Bakura? Really? Why are you so tired like this? And where have you been?" For a long while, there was silence, and Yugi worried. But then Bakura answered.

"I can't…" Yugi's eyebrows climbed up his forehead; Bakura was shaking his head back and forth, using what little energy he had. "I just… I can't…" He was shaking his head faster, and he was so caught up in the movement that his whole body was starting to rock. Yugi reached forward to put a hand on Bakura's chest and calm him, but Bakura hugged himself with one arm so tightly and so suddenly that there was no room in Yugi's mind for doubt that it had been a defensive measure against him.

"Bakura…" he started, the name slipping out; he was surprised by how sad and hurt his voice was. He watched as the tension in Bakura's body released, although he didn't drop his arm. He looked completely helpless.

"I'm sorry… Yugi. Things have been… really hard… lately." He raised his eyelids a little and stared at the ceiling. His brown eyes seemed sad and faraway, and somewhat… scared. Scared and lost and confused and, most of all, completely without hope. "I don't know what to do. And there's no one I can talk to." Yugi was suddenly leaning over him, one hand resting over his heart and his face distraught.

"You can talk to me, Bakura! We're friends! You know that I'll always help you whenever I can!" he shouted. He knew he shouldn't have been shouting, and he made an effort to lower his voice—but how could he not panic? What could possibly be going on that would make him so helpless, so beaten down like this? Bakura was so exhausted, he was practically asleep even as he spoke.

Bakura shook his head.

"No, Yugi. I can't talk to you about it. Especially… especially not you." Yugi leaned back, surprisingly hurt.

_It's alright, Yugi,_ the Pharaoh said, reemerging at his partner's distress. _Whatever's causing him to stay awake must be messing with his mind. I sense something very dark__ at work here, Yugi. _The Pharaoh paused, but Yugi could tell there was more he wanted to say. Silently, Yugi encouraged the Pharaoh to say it, even though he felt apprehensive already.

_ I'm not sure it's safe to associate with Bakura anymore._

_Pharaoh!_ Yugi cried silently; his fists tightened at his sides. _How can you think that?! I don't know what's going on with Bakura, and it makes me uncomfortable, too, but he needs us now more than ever! How can you say we should stay away?!_ He glanced at Bakura, who had stopped his exhausted twitching and was finally lying still. _He_ needs_ us, Pharaoh._

_Partner,_ the Pharaoh warned. Bakura opened his eyes and looked at Yugi.

"I'm really sorry for worrying you… Yugi…" he said. "Why don't you… go back…? I'll be okay…" Yugi looked at him, but he realized there was nothing else he could really do. Bakura was worrying him—one moment he wanted him there, and the next he clearly wanted him to go. The Pharaoh tugging at his attention and trying to make him leave wasn't helping either.

_There's nothing you can do for him if he won't let you,_ the Pharaoh said firmly. _I know you want to help, but there's nothing you can do. Give him some time—we can find out more later. _The Pharaoh did want to help Bakura—Yugi could feel it. And it was the only reason he was willing to give in.

"Alright," he said aloud to both of them. He stood up and threw Bakura a final glance. "I'll come check on you after school, okay?"

This time Bakura really was asleep.


	3. Chapter 2: Shadow Game

My apologies for all the exclamation marks—but the thing is, when you actually hear them talk, they _really do speak that way._ It's kind of unnatural as a speech pattern, but listen to the dub—they really do put _that much emphasis_ into what they say. If you try to read the lines in the character's voices, it doesn't seem as bad. ;;;

I'm actually quite fond of the rules for this game… I think it sounds like fun! I'll have full and proper rules posted at the end of the next chapter.

Chapter 2 -_-_- Shadow Game

"Yug! … Earth to Yug! … Wake up or I'm gonna rip up yer Dark Magician!"

"Not my Dark Magician!" Yugi cried out in terror, lurching forward in his seat. Tristan and Tea laughed, but not as hard as Joey.

"I knew that'd wake 'im up," he said smugly. Yugi blinked and looked at the three of them.

"What time is it?" he asked, looking at the clock.

"One-forty," Tea said. "You've been totally out of it for the last twenty minutes or so; the teacher ran out of material, so he's letting us socialize for a bit before the day ends." Yugi nodded slowly to himself.

"Yeah… I guess I have," he admitted.

"Still worried about Bakura?" Tristan asked. Yugi nodded again. He'd told them about Bakura between classes, and during lunch the four of them had gone to check on him in the nurse's office. The bed had been empty, and a passing teacher, noticing them, mentioned that Bakura had gone home for the day.

Yugi twitched his pencil back and forth in agitation, which he abruptly realized he'd been doing for the entire last… twenty minutes, had Tea said?… while he worried about Bakura.

"He was acting so strangely… and he seemed so weak," he added. Tristan shook his head.

"You don't need to justify it to us, dude. We know how you are. Still going to stop by his house when school's done?" Yugi nodded again. "I'm sorry I can't go with you—I _promised_ my mom I'd help her set up for her tupperware dinner—" Tristan made a face "—and I'll never hear the end of it if I back out now." Yugi smiled reassuringly at him.

"It's okay," he promised. "I'll be fine by myself." Tea had to work and Joey had received triple detentions, and a couple days ago Yugi and he had made a bet—if Yugi won a quick duel, Joey had to stay and do his detentions like a model student. And Yugi never lost—even if Joey had put forth so much energy and effort into the match Yugi had had to rely on the Pharaoh's strength. "Besides," he added, putting his hands on either side of the Millennium Puzzle, "I'm never really alone, right?"

_Of course, my partner_.

"But Yug…" Joey started. Yugi shook his head.

"It's alright, really," he promised them. "I'll be fine—Bakura's a friend, too. It's not like I'm going towards a duel."

"Yeah, but what 'bout all those duelists in town for Battle City?!" Joey insisted. "E'en _without_ your duel disk people'll still know you're Yugi Mutou! And they'll be able to guess that you'd still have your deck on ya!" Tristan was nodding sagely in agreement. Yugi smiled, embarassed.

"Come on, you guys! You over-exaggerate my fame _way_ too much! I promise, I can take care of myself!" Joey and Tristan exchanged a look.

"_Burningwarehouse_," Tristan "coughed". Yugi scowled.

"This is different! I promise I won't give my puzzle to any mysterious fortune tellers, okay? In fact, I won't talk to _any_ strangers!" Now it was Joey's turn to cough.

"Unlessthey'rewearingadueldisk_cough_." He suddenly started coughing for real; Tea hit his back, but Tristan was too busy laughing.

"Joey swallowed his spit!" he cackled. Joey grimaced at him.

The bell rang.

"Bye guys!" They all looked up towards the door, where Yugi was smiling and waving. He suddenly disappeared around the door frame.

"Be safe!" Tea called after him at the same time Tristan shouted, "I have my cell if you get in trouble!" Tea elbowed him while he laughed.

Joey stared after Yugi, a bad feeling in the depths of his stomach. If Joey hadn't made that deal he would be following Yugi right now—but he never broke a promise, and definitely not one he'd made with a friend.

But that didn't make him want to follow Yugi any less.

Yugi craned his neck and tried to look at the numbers on the other apartment doors. 600… 602… Yes, he was definitely standing in front of Bakura's apartment. He was admittedly nervous; he'd never been to Bakura's house before. And Bakura'd been acting so strangely… what if he didn't even answer the door?

_It's alright_, the Pharaoh promised him. _If he doesn't let you in, the there would have been nothing you could do to help him, anyway._

_Pharaoh…_ Yugi glanced at the door again, wishing he didn't feel so unsure of himself. _I have to help him, no matter what._

_I know._

He knocked on the door and held his breath. Several moments passed without any response.

_Yugi…_ the Pharaoh started. Yugi shook his head and knocked on the door again. _I do not want to crush your hopes, but—_

Yugi knocked violently on the door a third time.

"Who… is it…?" came a weak British voice from the other side of the door. Even though Yugi must have been leaning against it, he could barely hear him.

_He was probably asleep—that's why he didn't answer earlier!_ he told the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh seemed unimpressed.

"Bakura, it's me, Yugi! I just wanted to make sure you're okay!" There was silence for a second, then the sounds of a scuffle. "Bakura!" Yugi shouted, feeling his heart jump into his throat. "Bakura?! Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine… Just tripped," Bakura replied. Yugi blinked; Bakura didn't sound nearly as weak now. The door unlocked. "Why don't you come in, Yugi? I'm sure you must be hungry or tired—it's a long walk from here to school, or even to the nearest bus stop."

"Thanks, Bakura—" Yugi started.

_Yugi, don't._ Yugi blinked in confusion.

_Pharaoh, what is it now? You've been so panicky all day…_ he trailed off, pushing the door open and starting to wriggle out of his shoes. The door opened onto a narrow hallway, a door set into the right wall further down and a room Yugi couldn't see branching off to the left. Bakura wasn't in sight; he was probably already in the main room to the left.

_Yugi! I'm getting a bad feeling about this—Bakura's been acting strangely all day. Too strangely. I don't like this. What if he's being controlled by Marik?_ Yugi tripped in surprise as he walked into the apartment.

_Marik? No way… That doesn't seem right at all! Even if it was somehow true, wouldn't Marik have wanted him as close to me as he could manage? But instead he's been gone for a week, and when he _ does _finally come back to school he's so exhausted he can't do anything_!

_I know you don't want to consider it, Yugi, but it would explain why he's so tired; Marik has Bakura running errands for him._

_Like what? Bakura isn't very strong, and he doesn't have a reputation that can be manipulated or even any trace of an intimidating personality. He's smart, but Marik would be using his own mind, not Bakura's. I like Bakura, but I have to say that he wouldn't be that much use to Marik, not for what he needs. He hardly even duels, and isn't registered for Battle City at all._

_I don't know, Yugi,_ the Pharaoh said finally. _But this sits poorly with me. Please, Yugi, don't go any further into the apartment._ Yugi considered the request, but realized, rather abruptly, that he was already standing at the end of the hall, beside the brightly lit main room of Bakura's apartment. His first thought was to look for Bakura and see if he looked any better, but he got distracted.

"Woooooow!" he shouted without thinking, looking around the walls. Glass case after glass case were set against the walls, all the way from the floor to the ceilings. In them were the three-inch tall, vibrantly painted plastic figures of Monster World, the most popular tabletop RPG in Japan. There were only a few places that were devoid of the glass cases—the arch Yugi had come through, the window across the room under which sat a desk, another archway to his left that led into the apartment's small kitchen, and another door on the wall adjacent to him. In the middle of the room was a large, square table, a field for Monster World set up on it. "Bakura! This is amazing!" He turned saw Bakura sitting in a chair at the desk. He still looked tired, but better. His eyes were sharp and clear, and he was watching Yugi like a hawk.

He smiled, and though his face warmed, it didn't seem to reach as far into his eyes as it should.

"I'm glad you're impressed, Yugi. I really love Monster World, and it makes me happy that you do too." Yugi looked at him, thinking.

_He doesn't sound right,_ the Pharaoh said. He didn't speak it, but Yugi could feel the Pharaoh's fixation on Bakura's eyes. The way they watch them.

Yugi shushed him and looked around the room again.

"Yeah… I've never actually played it before, but it looks really fun!" he said. He rested his hand on his front right pocket absentmindedly. "I've been really busy with Duel Monsters though, not that I mind." Bakura tilted his head to one side, never taking his brown eyes off of Yugi.

"You're in the tournament, aren't you?" Bakura asked. "That big one that's being hosted by Kaiba… Battle City?" Yugi nodded and smiled at him; Bakura didn't smile back. Yugi frowned internally, careful to keep his face neutral. Bakura _did_ seem less tired—but he didn't seem any closer to normal.

"That's right, Bakura. I didn't know you were that big of a fan of Duel Monsters," he added. He could feel the Pharaoh in the back of his mind. He was not happy, but he was keeping quiet. Bakura smiled a little, but it was a sort of curious, knowing smile, not a friendly one. Yugi felt a finger of cold crawl up his spine.

"I enjoy all games," he admitted, pushing himself out of his chair. It looked like it took him a lot of effort, and he leaned against the desk once he was standing up. "I like Duel Monsters quite a bit. I have a small collection of cards, and I even have a deck…" He opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a small stack of cards. He looked at them for a second before setting them down. "I'm not in the tournament, though. I was too busy with… things." He looked again at Yugi and blinked slowly. "The tournament's rather interesting, though, don't you think? Eight duelists competing for Finals no one knows the location of, hosted by our own Seto Kaiba, with the title of King of Games at stake as well as the Egyptian God Cards…"

Yugi felt his body stiffen.

"The Egyptian Gods…?" he asked, his mouth dry. He was smiling, but he it was weak and forced and he knew it looked it. "What are you talking about, Bakura? 'Egyptian God Cards'? That sounds powerful!" He flashed his smile at Bakura, but again the other boy didn't smile back. He just stood there, and stared at Yugi, his expression curious and analyzing and blank.

_Yugi, get out of here now!_ the Pharaoh shouted. It reverberated through Yugi's skull, and he almost couldn't resist wincing. _He shouldn't know that! The only ones who know about the God Cards are those directly involved with them—us, Ishizu, Seto, Marik, and the people working for him! You have to get out!_

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better," Yugi said, trying to make his voice sound casual. "I hate to leave early, but I really have to go. I promised my Grandpa I'd pick up a cardboard cut-out of Kaiba for him to show the shoppers that he's selling cards for the tournament, and the place I need to get it from closes in half an hour, and it'll take me twenty minutes just to walk over there. I'm really sorry to stay for so short a time, but I wanted to make sure to check in on you today, even though I knew I couldn't stay long." He turned towards the door, but a crash drew his attention back to the desk. To his confusion, there was no one there.

He turned back towards the door and jumped. Bakura was already standing there, his back straight and a blatantly cruel smile on his face. He was shuffling his Duel Monsters deck.

"Why don't you stay just a little longer, Yugi? I haven't been feeling very well… It would make me very…" He looked at the hand holding his now still deck, using his thumbb to work at one of his fingernails. "…happy." He looked back up at Yugi, and his grin was even wider.

_Yugi!_ the Pharaoh shouted. Yugi suddenly felt him soul shunted to the side as the Pharaoh pushed himself into control.

"Bakura! Let us out!" the Pharaoh shouted. The grin on Bakura's face became ecstatic, and he let the cards cascade to the ground; as if an unfelt wind swept through the room, his hair suddenly seemed to grow wilder as the look in his eyes grew crueler.

"Well, well, well!" he shouted, throwing his arms out to either side. "It looks like the Pharaoh has arrived! Have you finally seen it fit to grace our lowly lives with your presence?" He threw his head back and laughed. The Pharaoh glared at him, grinding his teeth together.

"Who are you?!" he demanded. "And don't claim to be out friend, Bakura! I can tell well enough that you aren't! Is it you, Marik?!" Bakura laughed again.

"How cruel!" he taunted, looking back at the Pharaoh. His smile remained, but now every part of his expression seemed to drip of arrogance, to the narrowing of his eyes to the tilt of his head. "You don't even remember me, Pharaoh?! What a poor king you are! Maybe _this_ will refresh your memory!" He thrust forward his hand, and out of his shirt, as if melting through the fabric, appeared something large and gold.

"No!" the Pharaoh shouted in horror. But there was could be no denying what it was—the eye of Horus was staring back at him, so much like the eye on his own Millennium Puzzle. "The Millennium Ring!"

"That's right, Pharaoh!" the spirit wearing Bakura's skin agreed, unable, and unwilling, to hide his pride and smugness. "I am the spirit that inhabits the Millennium Ring! I am the evil that lurks behind the heart of the one you call Bakura—the 'Yami' Bakura, if you will." His grin widened at the self-fashioned name, but the Pharaoh had no mind for his games right then—he was still reeling.

"The Millennium Ring, but it can't be! Tristan told me—"

"Oh please, Pharaoh!" the Spirit of the Millennium Ring laughed. "You put too much faith in your petty friends! The Millennium Items are forces mere mortals could never possibly hope to understand! And the ways they work are just as enigmatic. But I suppose you won't have to worry about them for too long," he added, his expression turning sly. "After all, I plan on taking _yours_ from you very soon." The Pharaoh wrapped his hand protectively as far around the Millennium Puzzle as he could. He braced himself and ground his teeth in fury.

"I will never let you have this puzzle, you snake!" he shouted. He could feel Yugi's fright deep within him, but he tried to push it away; he couldn't worry about Yugi right now. Keeping the puzzle safe was the only way to also keep the both of them safe.

The Yami Bakura looked unperturbed.

"What, 'over your dead body'? If you hadn't destroyed mine, I would have happily taken it off your corpse! But I suppose the body of little Yugi will serve as a decent substitute!" He brought his hands up in front of his face, palms upward, and curled his fingers. "All of the Millennium Items have surfaced, and now it's left to me to simply gather them! And I'll start with yours!" He pointed at the Pharaoh and suddenly the room grew dark.

Enormous purple-black clouds boiled around them, the dim sounds of thunder in the distance. They consumed everything, until floor, wall, and ceiling were indistinguishable. Every once in a while the clouds would flash as if lightning burned deep within them, vague magenta scars on the roiling violet all about them, but there was never anything else to break up the monotony of the surrounding world.

"The Shadow Realm!" the Pharaoh spat. He was shaking with barely restrained fury. Yam Bakura laughed again.

"How attentive you've been, Pharaoh! So you can remember this place, but not me? I'm so offended!" He laughed again and Yami felt deep within him towards Yugi; he needed his partner's support right now—he had no idea what the Spirit of the Millennium Ring planned to do to him now that he was here.

But Yugi wasn't there.

"Yugi!" he shouted. His head snapped up and he glared at Yami Bakura, who stared back at him with an arrogant smirk. "What have you done to my partner, you snake?!" Yami Bakura's grin widened and he gestured around them.

"Ask the Shadow Realm that, dear Pharaoh!" he cried. "It does as it will, and no more!"

"It does as it needs to to meet the rules of a Shadow Game!" the Pharaoh shouted in reply. "So what game are you planning?!"

The Spirit of the Millennium Ring—the Dark Bakura—struck a bow.

"Well spotted, dear Pharaoh! There seems to be some form of a brain beneath that glowing Eye of Horus after all!" Forty Duel Monsters cards suddenly appeared in front of them, all face-down and in attack position. They flew to the no-man's land between them and arranged themselves into two groups of twenty, five cards wide and four cards deep. "Tell me, Pharaoh, have you ever played the modern-day game of Concentration?" Yami Bakura took a step forward, up to the edge of the cards. The Pharaoh didn't move.

"In the game, there are an even number of face-down cards," Yami Bakura continued, picking up a card with two fingers on his side and looking at it nonchalantly. "Each card is part of a pair; as the game is usually intended for children, the images on each are often brightly-colored mundane objects. The players take turns flipping two cards over; if they match, the cards are removed from play and the player who chose them collects them. If the player finds a match, they get to go again. If they are incorrect, both cards are flipped face-down again and returned to play. The positions of cards that are turned back over remains the same, so you can use your opponent's unsuccessful turns to help guide yourself to victory. At the end of the game, the player who has the most pairs wins." He looked up at the Pharaoh as he placed the card back down, his expression contemptuous. The cards moved by themselves, sliding as if over an invisible plane so that each card was now in a new position. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," the Pharaoh said flatly. "But these are Duel Monsters cards. What do you intend to do?" Yami Bakura flashed a dark grin at him.

"The game we will be playing will be very much like Concentration, Pharaoh. Before you are twenty face-down Monster Cards—Monster Cards from your very own deck!" He gestured at the cards in front of himself. "And in front of me are twenty of my own Monsters! We'll each take turns flipping the cards over; one of our own, and then one of our opponent's. If the attacks of the cards match, then both cards are removed from play."

"And the person with the most pairs wins?" the Pharaoh asked, folding his arms contemptuously. Yami Bakura smiled dangerously and wagged a finger at him.

"Don't get ahead of yourself _too_ much Pharaoh! This is my game, and _I_ am the only one who knows the rules, don't forget that! If you want to know what you're doing, you'd better shut that royal mouth of yours and listen, hadn't you?" The Pharaoh glared at him.

"We will _not_ be collecting pairs," the Spirit of the Millennium Ring continued, "as you oh-so-stupidly guessed. This game's winner is not decided by how many pairs we have—you win when your opponent either runs out of monsters or their Lifepoints hit zero."

"Lifepoints?!"

Yami Bakura glared at him, not looking so amused this time.

"There's that 'quiet' thing again, Pharaoh. If you're that eager to play we can skip the rules and start, and I'll let you wallow in your ignorance!" This time, the Pharaoh said nothing. "As I was saying, your opponent can also lose if his Lifepoints hit zero. We each start the game with 4000 Lifepoints.

"And now here is where this game takes the largest turn from its humble roots—if you happen to pick a monster with a higher attack than my monster, then the difference is taken from my Lifepoints and my monster is destroyed, and your monster is turned face-down. Just like in Duel Monsters, eh, Pharaoh?" the Pharaoh said nothing, and Yami Bakura smirked. "It seems that one _can_ teach an old Pharaoh new tricks, can't they? Anyway, if you attack my monster and destroy it, the difference is dealt to my Lifepoints. But if you attack my monster with a _lesser_ attack, then the difference is dealt to your Lifepoints instead, and _your_ monster is destroyed while mine stays on the field! If the attacks are equal, both monsters are destroyed but neither of our Lifepoints take damage, and the player who selected can go again. Do you understand so far? You may answer, this time," he added.

"Yes," the Pharaoh said flatly. Yami Bakura smiled.

"You know, I rather like this quiet version of you. No long rants about the 'Heart of the Cards' or preaching about 'friendship'!" He scoffed and waved a hand dismissively through the air. "There are a few more rules to this game, dear Pharaoh. For one thing, when it is your turn you do not _have_ to attack one of your opponent's monsters; you have the choice to either attack or flip a monster face-up. When a monster is flipped face-up, it will remain in face-up position for the entirety of the game, unless one of your monsters' effects allows it to turn face-down again. And that's another rule in itself—the effects of monsters still work. But I'll get to that later, shall I? When you flip a monster face-up, any Flip Effects it has will occur; Flip Effects are also activated when a monster attacks the monster in face-down position.

"You may turn a monster to Defense Mode, but only if it is already face-up. If a monster in Defense Mode is defeated, the difference is not taken from your Lifepoints. But in return, you cannot choose a Defense Mode monster to attack. Nod your head if you understand, Pharaoh—I'm rather enjoying not having to listen to your voice." the Pharaoh nodded. "Excellent. I believe that is all you need to know."

"Who will go first?" the Pharaoh demanded; now that Yami Bakura was done explaining, he felt no need to continue his silence. Yami Bakura smiled.

"Not quite so fast, Pharaoh! Before you inadvertently accept my challenge, don't you want to know the stakes of this Shadow Game?!" The Pharaoh just glared at him. Yami Bakura raised his arms. "Come, stakes!" Out of the clouds appeared two objects—Yugi, unconscious and hanging spread-eagle in the air, his arms bound by the dark clouds that composed the Shadow Realm; and the Millennium Puzzle, its chain dangling limply.

"Yugi! My Puzzle!" the Pharaoh shouted. He instinctively grabbed for the puzzle against his chest, but his hand came down on only empty air. "How did you get them, Bakura?!"

"_I_ did nothing," Yami Bakura laughed. "They are the stakes for the Shadow Game, Pharaoh, so the Shadow Realm has acted on its own to set the playing field! If you win, you get your precious little Yugi back, as well as your pathetic Puzzle! But if _I_ win, I not only get your puzzle, but I'll send both yours and Yugi's souls to the shadows, as well!" He threw his head back and laughed; the Pharaoh's hands tightened into fists.

"I refuse!" the Pharaoh shouted; Yami Bakura didn't stop laughing. "The stakes are too high! If you lose you lose nothing, but if I lose I lose everything!" Yami Bakura straightened and shook his head, making a "tsk tsk tsk" sound with his tongue as he did.

"I wouldn't be so rash, Pharaoh! You risk too _much_ to refuse! I have the power to send little Yugi to the shadows whether you duel or not! And if you truly refuse, I'll have no problem sending him on his way to be devoured!" The Pharaoh flinched, his eyes narrowing further.

"Then adjust your stakes!" he shouted. Yugi's eyelids started to flutter. Yami Bakura shook his head, but then shrugged helplessly, the gesture so insincere its mockery sent a lick of fury up the Pharaoh's spine.

"Very well," Yami Bakura conceded, "I see no reason why not, especially since I don't intend to lose!" He snapped his fingers and two more objects appeared out of the clouds—the Millennium Ring and the unconscious figure of Bakura, held in the air in the same way Yugi was.

"Bakura!" Yugi shouted in fright, coming around and seeing his friend. He noticed the dark circles around Bakura's wrists and ankles and looked to see the same on himself; he whipped his head around, looking straight at where he expected the Pharaoh to be—he was right. "Pharaoh!" The Pharaoh stared up at him, his face etched with anger and worry.

"Yugi!" Yugi looked around him, taking the whole situation in. He seemed sick.

"This is a Shadow Game, isn't it?" he asked weakly. The Pharaoh opened his mouth to speak, but Yami Bakura beat him to it.

"So it seems both sprit _and_ host find themselves in possession of brains! What a twist! Yes, little Yugi, welcome again to the Shadow Realm!" He threw his arms out to either side, taking in the swirling clouds around them. "It's missed you, hasn't it?" Some of the cloud next to Yugi bulged, nearly grazing his side. He flinched, though he couldn't go far, and the Pharaoh cried out. Yami Bakura laughed. "No need to fear yet, little Yugi! There's still a chance your Pharaoh in shining armor will save you, isn't there?" The Pharaoh growled at him. Yami Bakura turned back to his opponent.

"Well, Pharaoh, are you satisfied?" he asked, gesturing to his unconscious host and his Millennium Ring. "Now if I lose, I lose my Millennium Ring to you and the soul of my host, as well as my own! You can't deny that everything is fair now!"

"Lose the hosts," the Pharaoh spat. "I will not play if their souls are at stake." Yami Bakura shook his head and wagged his finger.

"No deal, your highness. The soul of my pathetic host is one of my advantages against you—I want to shake your resolve, Pharaoh, make you not _want_ to win. I know that losing the soul of my host won't hurt _you_, but imagine how much it would devastate yours." He laughed darkly; the Pharaoh could imagine how much pain Yugi would be in if Bakura was forfeited to the shadows. "You might say it's dastardly and dishonorable of me, but I'd like you to recall a time when that's stopped me. I'm here to win, Pharaoh, and I won't throw away my advantages because you ask me to!"

The Pharaoh ground his teeth, but there was nothing he could do—Yami Bakura wouldn't spare Bakura _or_ Yugi. These were the final stakes; he couldn't possibly hope to get them changed again. Yami Bakura had set up this trap for him, and the Pharaoh had triggered it just as the Spirit of the Millennium Ring had wanted him to.

"Yugi…" the Pharaoh started, looking up at this partner. Yugi shook his head, his violet eyes strong and determined.

"Don't worry about me, Pharaoh! I believe in you and the monsters who have shared so many of our duels! They won't let us down, I just know it!"

"But your friend…"

"We'll find a way to save him," Yugi said, the reassuring smile on his face genuine. "I don't want to lose him to the shadows either, but we're clever and strong, you and I—if anyone can figure out how to get him back, it'll be us!" The Pharaoh blinked at his partner's strength. He clenched his hand.

"Very well, my partner. I thank you for your confidence." He turned to Yami Bakura, his expression full of hate and determination. "I accept your Shadow Game." Yami Bakura grinned, the most cruel and blood-thirsty iteration of the expression yet.

"Excellent."


	4. Chapter 3: I Refuse to Lose

I am actually exceptionally fond of Duel Monsters Concentration. While it might not be terribly ORIGINAL, I'm still proud of it and the way I managed to combine these two games. There was no way I was going to do a proper Duel Monsters duel—oh man, that'd be way too complicated! That being said, I do plan to include one later on, by carefully transcribing a duel I'll take part in in Nightmare Troubadour. (Oh man, that's going to be so obnoxious.)

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Yami Bakura is a loony.

((The full rules for Duel Monsters Concentration are at the bottom of the post (to avoid potential spoilers for this chapter))

Chapter 3 -_-_- I Refuse to Lose

"You can go first," Yami Bakura said arrogantly, moving around to his side of the cards. The Pharaoh took his place in front of his own. "After all, this is my game, I might as well give you a handicap."

"Do what you will, snake," the Pharaoh spat. He looked at his cards, staring at the blank backs. Who knew what lay under each card? He believed in his cards—he truly believed they wouldn't let him down, and somehow he _knew_ that they wouldn't. _We can do it,_ he thought, speaking directly to both the cards and Yugi. He knew what Yugi would say.

_I know you can._

Numbers appeared in the air behind them, thin, burning digits that blazed orange against the purple clouds. 4000, 4000. Before them, the cards expanded, now five feet tall and three feet wide. The no-man's land between their cards shrank.

"Monster, lend me your strength!" the Pharaoh shouted; his voice boomed in the silence of the Shadow Realm just as it did in the middle of a Duel. He threw his arm forward, pointing directly at the black heart of one of the cards. It didn't move.

"Didn't I say, Pharaoh?" Yami Bakura asked sarcastically. "The cards don't flip over until you've chosen both." The Pharaoh scowled, but pointed at one of Yami Bakura's cards.

"Go, my beast!" he shouted. Both cards flipped over at the same time; the Pharaoh felt his heart drop for a moment. Kuriboh—one of his closest monsters, but also one of his weakest. How could it be enough? He looked at Yami Bakura's card and felt his face crack into a triumphant smile.

"My Kuriboh has one hundred more attack than your Dragon Piper!" he shouted, glaring Yami Bakura right in the eye. With a scream, the Dragon Piper shattered into a million triangular pieces, just like when a monster was destroyed in a holographic duel. The Kuriboh turned back over. Yami Bakura's arrogant smirk never slipped, even as the numbers unwound themselves like snakes behind him and moved into new formations.

4000, 3900.

"Well done, Pharaoh," Yami Bakura said. "I enjoy seeing that hope on your face—it lets me know that it'll crush you all the more when you lose." He stared at the face-down Kuriboh thoughtfully. "How fortunate, though; the one monster in my cards that could be defeated by your little mud-covered puff ball." He raised his eyes to Yugi's and glared at him over his smirk. "I purposefully included that card to spark that hope—thank you for taking it out of the game so early!" He pointed at two cards using his index and middle fingers.

"Go! Destroy his pathetic monster!" The two cards turned over, revealing Kuriboh and a Mad Sword Beast. There was another cry, different this time, as Kuriboh shattered. The Pharaoh grunted in pain as his Lifepoints dropped. "Incredible how quickly this game can turn, isn't it?" Yami Bakura asked, smirking. "Now I'm beating you by a thousand points." He shrugged. "Oh well, go again, Pharaoh."

The Pharaoh scowled, but pointed at two cards.

"Destroy his monster with your might!" he shouted. The two cards turned over; his own Winged Dragon, Guardian of the Fortress and Yami Bakura's The Gross Ghost of Fled Dreams. The ghost's scream echoed through the quiet before it shattered. Yami Bakura laughed at something The Pharaoh couldn't see.

"Very well, Pharaoh!" Yami Bakura shouted. "I choose these two cards!" They turned over; the Pharaoh's Beaver Warrior and Yami Bakura's The Portrait's Secret. Two screams shook the clouds around them and both cards shattered. "Well, it looks like I guessed right!" He smirked at the Pharaoh, who scowled bitterly at him. "Then I'll choose these two! Attack!" Yami Bakura's Dragon Zombie destroyed The Pharaoh's Koumori Dragon. "Well, well, Pharaoh—you take another hit. Are you too scared to continue?" He glared haughtily at the Pharaoh, who glared back at him with all the loathing he could muster.

"Attack my beast!" he shouted in response. The two cards turned over; his own Skull Red Bird to a Headless Knight. A muffled cry of pain; the Headless Knight shattered.

"Incredible, Pharaoh," Yami Bakura scoffed, even as his fiery numbers moved. "How unfortunate you are! You keep choosing monsters that only win by a hundred points. Is someone losing his touch?" He pointed at two cards before the Pharaoh could answer. "Cards!"

The two cards turned over—his own Penguin Soldier and the Pharaoh's Mystical Elf. A squawking cry rang through the heavy air and the Penguin Solider shattered.

2800, 3650.

"What was that about my luck?" the Pharaoh asked, showing a little of his own arrogance. He crossed his arms and smirked. "You just so happened to choose one of the few monsters my Mystical Elf could defeat! It would seem that you're loosing your own touch." The numbers behind Yami Bakura shifted again—his smirk didn't.

"You might have destroyed my Penguin Soldier," he agreed, "but its effect will take much more from you!" The cry sounded again, stronger this time, angry and determined. The Penguin Soldier itself appeared over the field—not the card, but the monster—waving its sword in anger. "Go, my Penguin Soldier! Destroy two of his monsters!" With a war cry, the penguin pierced first one card and then a second; the two cards shattered without turning over. The penguin shrieked in triumph before being blown away, as if it was made of smoke, by a nonexistent wind.

"No!" the Pharaoh shouted, looking at the gaps in the neat rows of cards. "That isn't right! Penguin Soldier's effect sends two of my monsters back to my _hand_, not to the graveyard!"

"Oh, did I forget to mention?" Yami Bakura asked, sounding pleased with himself. "There is no hand, or graveyard, so all cards are removed from play! Only cards that call a monster from the graveyard can be used to summon these monsters—which have to stay in face-up position—_not_ cards that call monsters from your hand or deck."

"Damn you, Bakura!" the Pharaoh shouted. "All rules to the Shadow Game must be told before it begins!" Yami Bakura shrugged.

"What can I say, Pharaoh? I just 'forgot'." He laughed darkly and the Pharaoh ground his teeth together.

"My turn!" the Pharaoh shouted, cutting Yami Bakura's laughter short. "I turn over this card—my Mystical Elf!" The card he pointed to turned over. "I set her in Defense Mode and end my turn." The card rotated by itself. Yami Bakura smirked.

"Very well, Pharaoh!" he said, crossing his arms. "I don't believe it'll help you, though!" He pointed to two of the face-down cards on the field. "Consume his Lifepoints!" The two cards turned over; a triumphant smirk settled over the Pharaoh's face for a moment before turning to horror. His card was a Gemini Elf, one of the most powerful four-star monsters in the game with 1900 attack. But Yami Bakura's card was Patrician of Darkness. A card with 2000.

Gemini Elf shattered as the fiery ropes that were his Lifepoints rearranged themselves. Yami Bakura was ecstatic.

2700, 3650.

"Dammit!" the Pharaoh swore under his breath.

"You can do it!" Yugi shouted from where he hung against the boiling sky. "Believe in the Heart of the Cards, Pharaoh! I believe in you! You can win this!" The Pharaoh looked up at his partner and smiled. Yugi smiled back. He'd forgotten for a moment that Yugi was watching this game as well. He could suddenly feel his partner's presence like a field of electricity around him—confidence surge through him, knowing that his partner was there, cheering him on.

The Pharaoh nodded once to him before turning back to the duel.

"I won't let your luck faze me, Bakura!" he shouted, his voice reinvigorated by the reminder of Yugi's presence. Instead of looking cowed by this surge of confidence, Yami Bakura looked delighted. "I believe in the Heart of the Cards, and my bond with Yugi! I won't fail him, and our friendship will not be broken by some foolish game! Come, my monster! Destroy his Patrician of Darkness!" He pointed to two cards; the first one turned over on his side, and he felt a stutter of horror in his heart; Man-eating Treasure Chest. That was only 1600 attack; not nearly enough to destroy his Patrician of Darkness. Had the Heart of the Cards failed him?

"Tch." He looked up to see Yami Bakura grimacing, staring at his card on his side that had been turned over. The Pharaoh looked as well and felt his eyebrows climb up his forehead. The card that had been turned over was a Baron of the Fiend Sword, not the Patrician of Darkness. The Pharaoh had remember the Patrician of Darkness' position incorrectly and pointed to the wrong card. Before his eyes the card shattered, and Yami Bakura's Lifepoints rearranged themselves into a new number.

2700, 3600.

"Impressive once again, Pharaoh." Yami Bakura looked into the Pharaoh's eyes, and he wasn't smiling so much anymore. He looked frustrated. "Even when you make a mistake you aren't wrong." His smirk returned, but it was more an expression of anger than contemptuous amusement. "But I won't allow you to be so lucky anymore!" He pointed to one of his cards, one right next to the gap left by his Baron of the Fiend Sword, which the Pharaoh knew housed the Patrician of Darkness. "I flip my Patrician of Darkness over, locking him in Attack Mode! Move _now,_ Pharaoh! What will you do when the only monster you can attack is my Patrician of Darkness?!"

The Pharaoh stared at the card, his brow furrowed in concentration. He knew the Patrician of Darkness' effect allowed its controller to choose the target of all of their opponent's attacks—and why wouldn't Yami Bakura send all of the Pharaoh's monsters at his Patrician of Darkness, expecting each to smash against its attack and be destroyed? This meant that the Pharaoh couldn't target any of Yami Bakura's face-down cards in the hopes that they were weaker, and chip away at his Lifepoints that way. His only hope was to believe in the Heart of the Cards and trust them to save him.

"My monster!" he shouted. "Attack, and take my faith with you!" The card flipped over. Its attack wasn't nearly enough to destroy Bakura's Patrician of Darkness.

But its effect was.

It shattered with a scream, and the numbers behind the Pharaoh changed. But the smirk on his face didn't.

"You may not know this, Bakura, but my Newdoria comes with a special effect—when it's destroyed in battle it can destroy one monster! And I choose your Patrician of Darkness!" Heavy, percussive beats shook the ground, jarring both the Pharaoh and Yami Bakura; the cards didn't move. A massive creature suddenly appeared behind the Pharaoh, towering over him. It glared at Yami Bakura—who took a step back, his face set in an aggressive scowl—with sightless eyes. "Destroy his card, my monster!" The Newdoria let out a howl and brought one of its limp hands crashing down onto the Patrician of Darkness. It cast a shock-wave out, making some of the cards spin and fly into the air as the Patrician of Darkness shattered with an agonizing keen. The cards that had been sent flying flew back to their proper places and settled once more, seeming as if they'd never been disturbed. The Newdoria blew away like smoke, just like the Penguin Soldier before it.

1900, 3650—but Yami Bakura was down one of his more powerful monsters.

Yami Bakura scowled.

"Count your blessings, Pharaoh! You were fortunate this time, but next time you won't be so lucky!" He pointed to two of the cards, then brought his hand up and pointed them straight at the Pharaoh's heart. The two cards flipped over; the Pharaoh flinched as his monster—and a hundred of his Lifepoints—were destroyed.

"You can do it Pharaoh!" Yugi shouted, suffusing all of his hope and faith in his voice. The Pharaoh clenched his fists; he couldn't let Yugi down. Not Yugi, not to an enemy as despicable and loathsome as the Spirit of the Millennium Ring.

"I'll protect you, my partner!" the Pharaoh shouted, flinging his hand out, his fingers spread wide. "I'll protect my puzzle and our future! I will not fail you!" He pointed to two cards. "Destroy his monster!" He scowled bitterly; a tie. The two shattered, but he ignored them—he was already on to the next two. "Attack!" The two turned over and the Pharaoh laughed with victory—his Fairy King Truesdale had a thousand more attack than Yami Bakura's Pyramid Turtle.

"Now Pharaoh, really—why on _earth_ would you be laughing now?" Yami Bakura asked, his voice sly and dark, even as the fiery numbers moved behind him and his card shattered with a scream. The Pharaoh fell silent, eyeing Yami Bakura warily. "Didn't you notice, Pharaoh? The color of my card?" The Pharaoh's eyes widened.

"It was an effect monster!"

"And there's that purported 'brain' coming into play again!" Yami Bakura said, his voice dripping with scorn. "My Pyramid Turtle allows me to summon one zombie-type monster with a defense of 2000 or less from my deck!"

"But we don't have decks!" the Pharaoh shouted; he knew Yami Bakura was going to shed light on yet another rule the Pharaoh hadn't heard of. Yami Bakura grinned at him, none of his earlier frustration showing, and wagged his finger back and forth.

"And there's that interrupting thing again, as well, Pharaoh. You may think you're so high-and-mighty, but how about letting us little people speak when we have the power to bring you big ones to your knees?!" He threw his arms out to either side and laughed. An enormous ripple appeared in the clouds above them and a monstrous shape emerged, larger than their entire playing field. It roared, its cry deafening. The Pharaoh grimaced and held his hands tightly over his ears, but Yami Bakura didn't seem to notice the sound—he was still laughing as if he had just thrust a dagger through the Pharaoh's heart already. "Go, my Pyramid Turtle! Reveal to me the location of my Vampire Lord!" All of the cards started to shake and rumble as if the plane they were on was rippling; the Pyramid Turtle roared again, and then suddenly a card in the row closest to Yami Bakura and a little to the left of his hand flew into the air, spinning and turning as it did until it fell onto the plane once again. It sent the cards rocking in one final shock-wave before both the energy and the Pyramid Turtle receded once more.

The Pharaoh glared at the face-up Vampire Lord, torn between his horror at its arrival and his fury with Yami Bakura for not telling him all of the rules. He could practically feel Yami Bakura's smirk like a dagger over his throat.

"Now it's my turn, isn't it?" Yami Bakura asked. His voice dripped malice and a promise of blood. "Go, my Vampire Lord! Suck the life from my enemy's body!" A card on the Pharaoh's side of the field flipped over; Giant Red Sea Snake. With a cry it shattered, scattering the Pharaoh with shards. He scowled. "And guess what?" The Pharaoh glared at him, knowing what followed could not possibly be good. "When my Vampire Lord takes a bite out of your Lifepoints—as it just did, dear Pharaoh—I get to choose one type of card and you must remove it from your deck. Which means you must send one of your Monsters to the graveyard from the field!" The Pharaoh ground his teeth, but he believed Yami Bakura; he knew that card's effect as well.

"I choose my Feral Imp! Thank you for your sacrifice, my monster!" A card two rows away from him flipped over and shattered with a scream. He could hear Yami Bakura starting to chuckle.

"Well… well… well, Pharaoh. Still feeling so high-and-mighty?" The Pharaoh raised his eyes to glare into Yami Bakura's. The Pharaoh was positive in that instant that he stared into the face of evil—every part of Yami Bakura's expression, the smile, the way his eyes were narrowed, reeked of absolute joy at the Pharaoh's frustration, at the fact that he would lose his soul forever when he lost. There was absolutely no doubt in that face—the Pharaoh _would_ lose, and when he did he would shatter like the worthless soul he was, lost for all eternity in a pit of hell he was only deserving of. And the fact that the Pharaoh could see this, could imagine that fate, could be shaken by the horrendous thought of it, filled the Spirit of the Millennium Ring with ecstasy.

But he was making a big mistake—the Pharaoh wouldn't lose. The Pharaoh _didn't_ lose. Never. No matter how skilled his opponent, no matter how poorly-suited he was to the game.

The Pharaoh. Did. Not. Lose.

He was the King of Games, and he didn't need some false title given to him by Seto Kaiba to know _that_. He'd proven it time and time again—every time Yugi was in trouble, every time he was challenged, or he made the challenge, to protect his friends or to protect his puzzle. Every game he played, he won. No matter how tough, how tight, how frightening, no matter the stakes.

He would not lose because he could not lose.

And if he could beat Seto Kaiba, and Maximillion Pegasus, and Marik on countless occasions, each in a game as complicated and prone to turn-arounds as Duel Monsters, he could certainly beat this two-bit hack at a child's game of Concentration!

"Laugh all you want, Bakura!" he shouted, hoping his resolve and his anger and confidence shone through his voice and burned Yami Bakura's skin. By the way Yami Bakura's grin fell away, he guessed that, to some degree, it did. "It'll be your only comfort when you whither in the Shadow Realm!" He called upon two face-down cards; they flipped over, and Yami Bakura's card shrieked in pain as it shattered. The numbers rearranged behind him again. The Pharaoh's 1600 to Bakura's 2400.

Yami Bakura smirked, but he didn't really look as sure as he let on.

"Poor Pharaoh, it's alright. You don't have to act brave anymore—when you're lost in the Shadow Realm, I know _someone_ will mourn your passing—with you gone, who else will I have to crush?!" He threw his head back and laughed, and the Pharaoh suppressed a scowl.

Damn that bastard, damn him to the deepest pits of hell.

"Well, I won't keep you waiting, Pharaoh—I know how the worry can be worse than the event!" He pointed first to his Vampire Lord and then to one of the Pharaoh's cards and pitched his arm into the sky; the Pharaoh's card flipped over. "Of course, in this case, the real thing is so, so much worse!" A scream; the Pharaoh flinched as his Lifepoints were lowered once again. "And thanks to my Vampire Lord's effect, you're now down another monster, aren't you?"

"I choose my Stone Soldier," the Pharaoh said, his voice still burning with confidence. Little losses like these wouldn't shake him. Duel Monsters was all about sacrifices, about taking the hits when you could so that you could deal them back worse. And deal them back he would.

A card two rows down and to his left shattered with an agonizing scream. Yami Bakura smirked.

1400, 2400.

The Pharaoh could feel a tendril of anxiety deep in his stomach, emerging even through his confidence and resolution. Bakura had a thousand more Lifepoints than him. And the field was starting to look very empty—Yami Bakura still had more than half of his monsters, but the Pharaoh had only seven left. Seven. True, he hadn't revealed anything truly powerful yet, which meant that the odds were high the monsters he'd need would be in these seven cards, but what if Yami Bakura had effects that threw away his monsters regardless of attack? It was a frightening thought.

He tried to push everything away; he knew the thoughts wouldn't help him, knew it could only hinder him. He had to play to win, and he had to play knowing he would win. He shunted everything to the side until there was only one thought in his head that he knew to be absolutely true—he couldn't survive any more turns with the Vampire Lord on the field.

"You can do it, Pharaoh!" The Pharaoh turned again to Yugi, his partner's eyes ablaze with confidence. Yugi had been silent through most of the duel, letting the Pharaoh concentrate. "Things might look bad, but this is always the part of the duel where everything falls into place, all of the cards come together! Believe in the Heart of the Cards, Pharaoh, just like you always do! They always come through for us, always now, when things look so dire and hopeless! Just believe in the Heart of the Cards, like I believe in you! They know we're right, they know we're just! They won't let us lose!" If the Pharaoh had ever been thankful for his partner—and he had on several occasions—it was nothing compared to how he felt now. For a second he wondered how he could ever live without Yugi, and for a second he was glad that if anything happened to his partner he wouldn't be around too long to have to deal with it. But he quickly threw _that_ thought away—he didn't want to take comfort in the fact that if Yugi died he'd pass on, too. Right now he had to focus on not letting that happen, so he and Yugi could have years to spend together yet.

Yami Bakura was making gagging noises in the background.

The Pharaoh closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He let his belief in the Heart of the Cards, in his partner, in the fact that they held a bond that couldn't be broken and wouldn't be broken now, flow through his body. He then pointed, unsure where he pointed, or at which card. He opened his eyes and stared straight down his finger, at the black heart in the back of a card.

"Go! My monster! Take the faith in my heart and strike his Vampire down!" He could hear Yami Bakura scoff. He watched as the card flipped over. Yami Bakura gave a strangled cry of shock and his Vampire Lord shattered, taking some of Yami Bakura's Lifepoints with him.

1600, 1900.

The Pharaoh smiled at the face of his Dark Magician.

"Thank you, my friend," he said to the card as a cry of joy came from Yugi on the sidelines. "It's wonderful to see you." The card flipped back over again, hiding in the shadows, ready to attack at its master's next call. Yami Bakura was growling quietly in the back of his throat, but he forced his annoyance down.

"Very good, Pharaoh! It would seem luck's on _you_r side, this turn!" he shouted. "But don't think you'll be so fortunate the _whole_ game. There's still plenty yet, and I _will_ destroy you and that foolish host's spirit and claim your puzzle as my own! Nothing will stop me from gaining all of the Millennium Items and fulfilling my goals, and least of all some amnesiac pharaoh!" He pointed directly at the Pharaoh's heart. The Pharaoh gave a quick laugh.

"Except for your general incompetence, of course." Yami Bakura drew his shoulders up in reflex. He hissed at the Pharaoh.

"My monster! Attack his face-down card!" he shouted. A card on his side of the field and a face-down card on The Pharaoh's side both flipped over. With a scream, the Pharaoh's was destroyed. The Pharaoh shrugged it off and called upon his Dark Magician and one of Yami Bakura's monsters; the thing never stood a chance. Yami Bakura grimaced in pain.

"Don't get haughty yet, Pharaoh," he snarled. The Pharaoh smirked. "Just because you've gotten lucky this time doesn't mean you'll win. You can rely on that Dark Magician of yours if you want to, but don't think it can support you forever."

"I don't need it to last forever," The Pharaoh said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He was still worried, still aware that he was in a perilous position. But showing a strong side to Yami Bakura, showing that confidence that lurked there, too, was his best weapon right now. "I just need it to last long enough to decimate what remains of your Lifepoints."

Yami Bakura growled furiously and gestured to two face-down cards. They flipped over, and he was barely able to restrain a frustrated grunt as his card shattered, taking some of his Lifepoints with it. The Pharaoh was unable to hold back a laugh.

"Don't speak so soon, Bakura. Maybe _you_ should stay quiet as well. After all, better to keep your mouth shut than to shove your foot in it." He raised his hand up and pointed to one of Yami Bakura's cards. "Go, my Dark Magician! Destroy his face-down card!"

Yami Bakura almost screamed as Dream Clown was destroyed, taking almost all of his Lifepoints with it. The Pharaoh couldn't help but smirk.

"What you said before is true, Bakura." Yugi was cheering loudly in the background. "It's amazing how quickly the tables can turn. Look at our Lifepoints, and look at the field. Now you have only one monster more than I do, and one of mine is the Dark Magician. What do you have that can beat that?"

Yami Bakura didn't say anything; he just glared at the Pharaoh and seethed. His shoulders moved in time to his breathing. He didn't say anything. He could feel that he was on the edge of a dangerous precipice. He was near the end of his rope—there wasn't much hope that he could defeat the Pharaoh when he was in such a weakened state. And what irritated him more was that the Pharaoh knew it.

The Pharaoh turned to the prone form of Bakura, who was still hanging unconscious by the dark rings of cloud around his wrists and ankles. A frown settled over his face, and some of the sharp taste of victory turned bitter.

"I'm sorry, my friend," he said to the unconscious body; Yugi glancing at his friend as well. "But I promise—I _will_ save you." Yugi couldn't turn from Bakura for a long moment—might this be the last time he would ever see him? He turned back to the Pharaoh and gave out a frightened cry. But it was too late.

With a hideous snarl, Yami Bakura had pushed himself off the ground and was sailing towards the Pharaoh already—the Pharaoh barely had time to turn before Yami Bakura was on top of him, his fingers clawing at the chain around the Millennium Puzzle.

"I won't lose!" he screamed as the Pharaoh struggled to beat him off. "Not to some foolish, arrogant kingling like you!"

The two rolled about, fighting each other with all of their might, punching and kicking and beating at each other as hard as they could. Yugi was still making sounds of horror and dismay, urging the Pharaoh on and reacting to every hit the Pharaoh took as if they had been struck against himself, too, but he was struck fast, and there was nothing he could do but watch the two of them try to kill each other with their bare hands.

Yami Bakura had wrapped his hands around the puzzle and was tugging at the chain, wrenching at the Pharaoh's neck. The Pharaoh ground his teeth and tried to pry Yami Bakura's hands away from the puzzle, while at the same time trying to kick him as hard as he could. One good hit to the chest or stomach might have been enough to knock him away. But Yami Bakura seemed oblivious—he was too focused on stealing the Puzzle to feel anything else.

Suddenly the world began to grow hazy and insubstantial, like the Pharaoh was floating in a dream. He blinked owlishly, but it didn't help—he was still just as strong, and still in control of his body, but the world felt… surreal. Too surreal. Like it wasn't even real anymore, or at least he wasn't a part of it anymore. He could hear Yami Bakura's manic laughter ringing in his ears like a bell, though it was like someone had covered the bell first. The Pharaoh abruptly had a sickly feeling of being washed away by a powerful wave and then being pulled back in by the tide. And it was then that he understood.

Yami Bakura's Millennium Ring had the power to separate a soul from its vessel, whether that was a person from their body or a monster from its card. And he was trying to use that power of the Millennium Ring to force the Pharaoh's spirit out of the Puzzle.

The Pharaoh called upon the power of the Puzzle—to place a soul back in its body—using all of its, and his, power to keep his spirit in the Millennium Item. Yami Bakura growled in irritation as he realized the Pharaoh had discovered his plan. Yami Bakura called on all of his power, as well.

The full force of the Egpytian Pharaoh and his Millennium Puzzle warred with the Millennium Ring and the spirit bound within it.

For a moment the world seemed to swim in a clear water of dreams and nightmares, and then everything went black.

DUEL MONSTERS CONCENTRATION RULES:

.. Each player puts twenty monster cards face-down in attack position, five cards wide and four cards deep. They are in completely random order, neither you nor your opponent should know where each card is to start with.

.. Players take turn choosing one of their monsters and then one of their opponent's monsters

:: If your monster has higher attack than your opponent's, your opponent's life-points take the difference, and their monster is destroyed. Your card is turned face down again.

:: If your monster has lower attack than your opponent's, your life-points take the difference and your monster is destroyed. Their monster is turned face-down.

:: If your monster and your opponent's monster have the same attack, both cards are removed from play, and the player who called the match gets to go again.

.. Each player has 4000 life points

.. You lose by: running out of cards first -or- running out of life points first

.. Flip effects still take effect

:: since there are no hands, monsters that return cards to an opponent's hand are simply removed from the field

:: monsters that bring cards back from the "graveyard" can bring a card that has been removed back onto the field; cards that call cards from the deck call monsters from the Field-otherwise the effect is negated

:: there are no magic or trap cards*

.. WHEN YOUR TURN STARTS YOU CAN TAKE TWO ACTIONS:

:: attack your opponent's monster

:: flip one of your cards over

.. Once a card is flipped over it must remain face-up for the duration of the game (unless a monster's effect allows you to turn one card face-down)

::this will activate a monster's flip-effect

:: You can then move it into defense position if you want to

..when a card is in defense position your life-points won't take a hit

.. you must flip a card over to put it into defense position

*There is actually a more complicated version of this game, but shhh, it's supposed to be a surprise. ;)


	5. Chapter 4: A Place I'm Not Used To

Despite it being the shortest chapter, it took me the longest to get around to. I'm sorry! Life came and distracted me. But YYYEEEESSSSS, with this done, there's one more chapter to finish, then half of one to revamp (yes, I had half of Chapter 6 done before dropping the story! Oops;;) and then I can actually get to new stuff. I'm terribly excited. Why am I such a loser? I hope you enjoy the chapter despite its brevity!

Chapter 4 -_-_- A Place I'm Not Used To

The spirit that called itself Yami Bakura—it was easier than anything else—had a very simple Room of Mind. It wasn't that he had a simple mind—just the opposite; his mind was full of plans and schemes that twisted around themselves, and dove through themselves, and intersected in ways that would cause a younger spirit to die, screaming and ripping at the seams as it struggled to comprehend—and failed. No, Yami Bakura's Room of Mind wasn't simple because his mind was simple—it was because he was predominated by one thought, one goal, one ambition, one obsession.

Yami Bakura sat up and put a hand to his head. He was a metaphorical projection of the thoughts of his incorporeal soul, but that didn't stop him from having a headache. Brilliant.

It took him a moment to et himself oriented, but after he had, it was easy enough to tell where he was. He had spent enough millennia sitting in here, waiting for the reincarnation of his previous, scar-bearing self to come along and give him the energy—and body—he needed to extract himself from unconsciousness and the Millennium Ring's golden confines.

The Room of his Mind was a dim place, a large, empty chamber whose walls were made of a dark yellow sandstone, etched with the characters he had known from his youth. The only light in the room came from the scarlet flames that burned atop four tall, thin golden stands at the corner of a single, large platform in the center of the room. Although the light was enough to reach the walls, it was not enough to illuminate them, and they sat in murky shadows and kept all their secrets, just as Yami Bakura had, for so long, kept his.

Besides for the torches, the only break in the monotonous emptiness of the room was the platform in the center, and what lay upon it. It was raised only a foot or so above the floor—also blocks of dark yellow sandstone—and only slightly larger than what it held aloft: the Millennium Stone. Not the real one, of course—the real one was buried under the sand of what had once been Kul Elna. It was, rather, a perfect mental copy, of a level of perfection that preached of years' worth of obsessive observation.

The Millennium Stone was usually mostly empty—it reflected the Millennium Items currently in Yami Bakura's possession, and for the longest time it had sat empty—too empty—of everything but the Millennium Ring. Now the Millennium Eye shone from its place in the tablet figure's forehead, but it still wasn't enough. He wanted them _all_—and especially that Pharaoh's Puzzle.

It was atop the Millennium Stone that he found himself now, and he propped himself on his elbows and reclined against them, peering around the room. He scoffed. He remembered everything, as far as he could tell—fighting the Pharaoh in his Shadow Game, the horrible defeat from the Dark Magician, wrestling with the Pharaoh to steal the Puzzle. Hmph. He'd thought he was so damn clever when he tried to part the Pharaoh's soul from the golden pyramid-on-a-string. But then that damn Pharaoh had swept in and used his own power to try and put himself back. He wondered slightly how that fight had ended—he and the Pharaoh had been struggling against each other, and then everything vanished. And now he awoke here, in the Room of his Mind. Had the Shadow Realm punished them both for the incursion by casting their souls to the shadows? Was this what it was like to wither there? Captured in the room of your own mind, doomed there to eternity? He would have to admit—that would be pretty damn evil. He was used to it by now, but still, it would drive most men mad. He could take some comfort in the fact that he had damned the Pharaoh to the shadows, too, but he was too frustrated that this meant he could no longer achieve his own ends.

He pushed himself up slightly, now leaning on his hands, and gave the room a passing glance. No… something seemed alive in him. Or as alive as a 5,000-years-dead spirit could feel. He wasn't in the Shadows. Was he still in his host? In the Ring? Did this mean the Shadow Realm had simply annulled the game after Yami Bakura's transgression?

How merciful of it.

Yami Bakura closed his eyes and felt deep into his connection with his host. The connection was dull and closed off—his host was so deeply unconscious that Yami Bakura couldn't even take control of the body. Dammit. He pushed himself into a fully sitting position and crossed his arms over his chest. What a bother. It'd been a while since he'd been stuck in this chamber—for the last few weeks he'd been piloting Ryou Bakura's body almost non-stop, working it to a level that his host's pathetic frame clearly couldn't handle. Really, his reincarnation was useless. _He_ had _never_ been that weak, even in the days of his earliest youth.

The room reflected that youth—walls of ancient sandstone, hieroglyphs of the Ancient Egyptian script scratched into them, the torches that burned around him of the same model used so long ago. The room was circular, reflecting the shape of the Millennium Ring, which housed his soul. There was nothing in the room but a single door in the far wall that led to the span between his and his host's souls, the raised platform in the middle, and the mostly-empty Millennium Stone he had used as both bed and throne for thousands of years.

The stone had had only the Millennium Ring for far too long.

He reached backwards without looking to stroke the polished curve of the Millennium Ring and met only air.

He whirled around in shock. The Millennium Ring! It was gone! His fingers searched frantically in the divot set for it near the middle of the stone idol, but it simply wasn't there. He began to grow frantic. Where was it?! Where was the Millennium Ring?! This was his _mind!_ He couldn't just _lose_ it! He clasped frantically at his chest, at his neck, looking in his shirt. But he wasn't wearing the Ring, either.

It was gone.

His mind was reeling with shock and a sudden sense of emptiness. No! It was impossible! The Ring was his! It had been his for 5,000 years, it housed his very _soul_! How could it be… He couldn't even think of the word. It made him sick.

He put his hand down, and a stabbing pain suddenly shot up his arm. He looked down and saw that it had landed near the neck of the idol, below the figure's face but above the empty curve meant for the Millennium Ring. He didn't lift his hand. The chaos in his mind had suddenly been washed away, swept away by a single thought. It felt like a… spike. Like a corner of something was sticking into his palm.

Very slowly, he lifted his hand and brought it to his side.

A laugh tore its way out of his throat. And it didn't stop.

There, glinting almost malevolently in the red light, was the Millennium Puzzle. It was sitting awkwardly in its space, which was why one of its corners stood up instead of lying flush with the stone.

His mind was empty with shock, empty with ideas and a realization he knew was completely true. He slipped the projection of the Millennium Puzzle into its slot so it sat correctly, the ever-watching Eye of Horus glaring up at him. There was no loud bang, or flash of light, or stream of sparks. It just sat there, existing.

He looked around, and noticed that the room was no longer circular, but multi-sided. He looked up, and instead of the flat ceiling, he noticed that the four sides of the chamber all tilted upwards, their meeting points left in shadow.

His laugh turned into something very dark.


	6. Chapter 5: This is Not Me

I apologize IMMENSELY for Yami Bakura's characterization here. ;;; I had a very different mindset for him when I wrote this three and a half years ago, and I've tried to fix it and tone it down while refusing to rewrite the entire thing. So… he'll get better. I promise. ;;;

I'll also take this moment to apologize for the pause between Chapter 4 and this one. This was awful to work on—it's all exposition, awkward character interactions, and a lot of it was just a mess in general. Hopefully this'll be readable. As well, I've started another long YGO! fan-fiction, called "King of Games". I'm not giving up or putting on hiatus HOSTage.0, but I will admit that "King of Games" is more intriguing to me, and I'll probably put more work into it. If you're interested, I'd be really honored if you'd give it a look!

BUT NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE HALF NEW MATERIAL, AND THEN FROM THERE IT'S NEW SAILING, SO THAT IS EXTREMELY EXCITING. Chapter 6 is a bit more foundation-laying, but then CHAPTER 7 HAS VIOLENCE, AND NOT CARD GAME VIOLENCE, BUT ACTUAL PUNCHING-AND-KICKING VIOLENCE, AND I AM SO EXCITED YOU GUYS. (Nothing too graphic, though, so either be relieved or disappointed as you will.)

Alright, enough apologies, I hope you enjoy the chapter (as much as you are able to).

~Atakiri

Chapter 5 -_-_- This is Not Me

Yami pushed himself out of the stone throne he had fallen asleep in. His muscles ached as he moved, and he lurched as he got to his feet. His partner was only a very faint feeling in the back of his chest, muffled by the walls and hallways separating them. He frowned and put a hand to his head to steady himself. What had happened? Yami Bakura had attacked him in the Shadow Realm, and that was all he remembered.

Had Yugi gone free?

Was Bakura lost in the shadows?

Had the Shadow Realm punished Yami Bakura for cheating?

He walked drunkenly out of the room, bumping against the sandstone walls and leaning on them for support. His feet felt unsure beneath him, and the world seemed to be spinning.

"Yugi…" he muttered weakly. He pushed himself past another door frame, looking at the deep maze that was the Room of his Mind. It was even worse than usual—the stairways were now tilting in all sorts of impossible angles he'd never seen before, some looked inside out, there was a new density to the steps and at least forty times more doors, and it all seemed to be waving in and out like a curtain trapped in a breeze. Reflecting his own confusion and disorientation. Ugh. He wondered if he'd ever get out again.

It took him what felt like an age of the earth, though it could have been five minutes. But finally he went through a door and stumbled into the hall that separated his Room of Mind from his partner's. He could feel his host's presence a little more strongly now, and he lurched towards the other door, prying it open.

"Yugi—" he started, but he stopped. This room wasn't the one he was familiar with—he had never seen it before. It was dark, with swirling shadows circling within it. The walls looked like they had been brightly colored once, but now the colorful, childish wallpaper was peeling in places and looked worn out and tired. In the middle of the room was a single white column, Greek looking, fading in and out of existence. It was around this that the shadows circled, and Yami could see through the column toys and bright playing cards and Monster World figures all gathered together into a hurried pile. On top of the pile sat the white shadow of an angel with a face Yami couldn't make out. A soul trying to protect its innocence and its identity from the swirling evil surrounding it.

This was not Yugi's Room of Mind.

What was going on?!

Bakura opened his eyes very, very slowly. It took a longer time for the world to come back into focus. He was in his own room, the one he had lived in for the last few years after his last school transfer. There was the lamp on his ceiling, with the fluorescent red circle where a bouncy ball had gotten away from him and had fallen into the glass bowl. There were his walls with posters of Monster World promotions and photographs of England and his old home. A book shelf with barely-touched school books, well-worn popular novels, and collections of gaming and manga magazines. Everything as he had left it.

He closed his eyes again, feeling the softness of his blankets around him. It had been a long time since he'd been in total control of his body, and he'd missed how good it felt not to be sequestered in the Room of his Mind. The Yami Bakura had been running him ragged lately, doing who-knew-what; Yami Bakura did not allow his host to be around when he was working. It was why Bakura had been so tired lately, so exhausted to the bone. And it had been why he couldn't tell Yugi about it, either.

If anyone was to understand his dilemma, he knew it would have been Yugi; Yugi had saved him from the power of the Spirit of the Millennium Ring once before, and Yugi had a spirit within him as well. Granted, that spirit was benevolent, but sharing one's body was still an experience he could relate to. But Yami Bakura had threatened him—in those rare times when he retreated to the Room of his Mind to think or to rest, as even spirits needed to, and left Bakura in charge of the body—that if he informed Yugi about anything, even so much as Yami Bakura's presence, Yami Bakura would make sure terrible things happened not only to Bakura, but Yugi and his friends as well. The Spirit of the Millennium Ring had never hurt him purely out of malice before, but Bakura didn't doubt that he could.

But that he could handle. What was a little physical pain on top of the mental pain he bore every day? But his friends being hurt… Bakura dreaded that happening more than anything. Yugi was his friend, as little time as the two were able to spend together. He didn't count himself as one of Yugi's "group", but he'd have loved to be a part of it. Maybe if Yami Bakura hadn't come back into his life, hadn't made everything so complicated. Bakura had been determined to protect Yugi from the dark spirit that dwelt inside him—even to slapping Yugi away when he almost touched the Millennium Ring hidden under Bakura's shirt. He'd been determined to never let Yugi know of the Millennium Ring's presence again. He would keep Yugi safe.

He forced his eyes open again. The Spirit of the Millennium Ring was being very quiet; he wasn't trying to shove himself into control of Bakura's body at all. That didn't sit right with him—Yami Bakura enjoyed being in control of a body as much as Bakura realized he himself did, and would hardly ever give up an opportunity to be the dominant soul in it. And it's not like Bakura was ever able to put up much of a fight, especially when he was like this. But the spirit that dwelt in him now wasn't doing anything—and he was definitely awake, though he was still deep in the Room of his Mind.

His fingers curled around themselves anxiously. This wasn't right at all. Yami Bakura never left him alone without some kind of message or warning about being on his "best behavior", and the last time Bakura had been conscious was when Yugi had come to his apartment to check on him. He had tried to warn Yugi to leave, but then Yami Bakura had forced himself into control, and even though Bakura had managed to fight him off for a short while, it was only a moment before the spirit had shoved Bakura into his Room of Mind and blocked the door behind him. What was going on? Had something happened to Yugi? Did he know about the Millennium Ring now?

"Bakura! You're awake!" Bakura bolted up in alarm, his white hair flying around him. He looked around wildly, his brown eyes finally setting on Tea Gardner, sitting in a chair beside his bed. He was in shock. What was she doing here?! Why was she in his room?!

"T-Tea!" he shouted, as eloquent as ever. His hand instinctively moved to his chest, covering the Millennium Ring under his shirt. The look of relief on Tea's face was so acute it almost hurt.

"Bakura, we were so scared!" She leaned forward and hugged him, and it took him a second to recognize it; he was still processing her words.

"'We'? What were you worried about? Why are you here?" he asked. His mind felt like it was smothered with a blanket—thick and fuzzy. _Something_ had happened in the short time since Yami Bakura had forced control in the hallway. With a start, he realized that he didn't know if it had been a short time or not—usually his sense of time was as accurate when he was in the Room of his Mind as when he was in control of his body, but he realized now that he had no idea how much time had passed. This disturbed him more than anything so far, to the point where he was nearly shaking; he never lost consciousness entirely. Never. But this time, he had, and for him to have been struck down while he was in his Room of Mind meant something catastrophic must have occurred.

It took every lost drop of willpower he had to be still until Tea let go of him and sat back up in her chair.

"Do you not remember?" she asked. The concern in her voice struck Bakura again, and he felt awful; how much he wished he could be one of their friends! Tea was already this worried about him—he couldn't imagine how much she would care if he was one of the group. For a second the image of him spending his time with Yugi and his friends filled him with a sort of muted joy, but he pushed it away. It was impossible right now, as long as Yami Bakura was around. "Bakura, what's the last thing that you _do_ remember?"

"Y-Yugi came over to check in on me," he said, unable to keep the trepidation out of his voice. His heart was beating very quickly. Had something happened to Yugi? Please, don't have let him have done anything to Yugi…

Tea didn't seem satisfied with his answer, but she understood it.

"We don't really know what happened, but we think you might have been attacked by a Rare Hunter," she admitted. He stared at her, his eyes wide and confused.

"Rare Hunter?"

"They're awful people who steal rare cards from duelists!" Tea shouted, her hands clenching into fists. "They've been after Yugi for a while, and we think that when he came to visit you, they must have attacked!" Bakura jumped in shock, but something in the very back of his mind told him that that wasn't right. "Joey and Tristan and I were all worried about you, too, so we came to visit as soon as we could. But when we came in, the door was already unlocked and you and Yugi were lying on the ground all sprawled out and with Monster Cards all over the floor!"

Bakura's eyes widened, perplexed.

"We… what?" he asked. He put his head in his hands and tried to remember, but he couldn't recall anything. He remembered Yugi knocking on the door, Yami Bakura forcing his way into control, him falling in the hallway as he struggled against the Spirit… then an unmeasured time in his Room of Mind… and then waking up in his bed. It was all he could remember. He noticed that there was a period between being in his Room of Mind and waking up that was black—the unconsciousness he had noticed before. But how long had that been?

"Tea, why are you here?" he asked. Her eyes widened, somewhat embarrassed.

"Joey and Tristan took Yugi back to his place to take care of him, and I stayed here to make sure you were okay," she explained. Bakura ducked his head, embarrassed and touched by her concern and very, very worried about Yugi. What had happened? What had he done? What had the Spirit of the Millennium Ring made him do?

He felt Tea put a hand on his forehead. He stayed still and didn't try to shake her off. She frowned slightly and retracted it.

"You don't feel hot," she noted. "Are you feeling okay?" Bakura nodded, although he wasn't really sure if he was or not. He hadn't thought about it.

"I feel fine," he said. He had become very good at lying.

Tea frowned.

"Should I call a doctor?" He shook his head.

"I'm sure I'm fine," he said, again not sure if it was true or not. "But… how is Yugi?"

Tea bit her lip, worried, and after a moment shook her head. Bakura felt a thrill of fear strangle the breath in his throat.

"I don't know," she admitted. "When we found you two you were both unconscious… The boys took Yugi, and I haven't heard since…" She bit her lip again, glancing at the phone sitting on Bakura's desk.

"Why don't you call and find out?" Bakura offered. Tea's face relaxed for a second in unspoken gratitude and walked over to the phone, quickly dialing the number. She held the receiver up to her ear, her teeth still worrying at her lip. With each ring Tea grew more and more agonized until someone finally picked up.

"Joey! It's me! How's Yugi, is he doing okay?!" There was silence for a moment as Joey replied, making Tea's face grow worried again. "Really… He hasn't even woken up by now?" Bakura felt a chill run down his spine. Yugi still wasn't awake? He realized his worrying about Yugi was making him feel ill. What could have happened to the two of them that was so serious? Hadn't Tea said she and Yugi's friends had found them yesterday? How long had they been sleeping, then?!

He remembered that he didn't even really know how he was feeling himself yet—he'd kept pushing it out of his mind so that he didn't worry Tea. But now he really needed to know, and he couldn't do that while Tea was here. As much as he enjoyed having someone he thought of as a friend with him, he needed her to leave so he could think without the possibility of worrying her. He wouldn't let anyone hurt for him, not anymore. But how could he make her leave without hurting her feelings…?

Tea was talking again, and he listened to what she said, trying to glean as much information as he could.

"He seems to be doing fine; he woke up a couple minutes ago." She turned to Bakura and gave him a sad little smile before turning back to the phone. Talking about him, then. "Yeah… He's not hot, so he doesn't seem sick." She dropped her voice for a moment, but Bakura could still hear her just fine. "A little… out of it, maybe, but I don't think he's ill. … He doesn't remember. No, tell Tristan that I am not going to try and psychoanalyze him to see if he remembers somewhere in his subconscious… I can hear him in the background! Sheesh, guys. I didn't even realize you two knew what the word 'subconscious' meant." There was another long pause, and she bit her lip again. "Really? Nothing at all? Ugh… I'm worried sick…"

"Tea," Bakura said, making her turn her head. Here was a perfect opening. "I'm okay, really. You can go over there and be with Yugi if you want." Tea blushed bright red, and looked at the phone with a look of reluctant longing. Bakura wondered if Tea had feelings for Yugi—it was obvious even to him that Yugi had them for Tea, and it would be nice if they could make each other happy.

"You need someone Bakura, I just know it. I can always visit Yugi later, and he's in go… decent hands with Joey and Tristan. It would be wrong of me to leave you," she said. Bakura smiled comfortingly at her. She was trying to do the right thing, even though it wasn't really what she wanted to do. He appreciated it, but it made him feel pathetic.

"Tea, it's okay, I promise," he said. He gestured to himself. "I feel fine. I can take care of myself. I promise." She glanced at the phone again, clearly guilty. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your concern. It really makes me feel like I'm your friend."

"You are my friend!" she cried, not pausing for a moment to think about it. That made Bakura feel warm inside—it was the honest truth, then, if she could say it so quickly. He was so moved he nearly started tearing up.

He closed his eyes and smiled at her.

"Then that's really all I need," he said, trying to show how earnest he was. "I know that you'll be with me in spirit." He opened his eyes again. Truly friends or not, he needed her to leave. "Go be with Yugi—he needs your support more than I do right now." Again the need to check his own condition crept into his mind, but he pushed it away. Not until she left.

Tea shot one last reluctant look at the phone, and then Bakura could see her conviction dissolve.

"Joey?" she said, lifting the receiver up to her ear from where she had been resting it against her shoulder. "I'm going to be there as soon as I can, okay? … Bakura's fine. … He told me he is, that's how I know. … I know, I know, but he seems more concerned about Yugi than himself. … I know you can take care of Yugi, but— … I'll be there as soon as the next bus can take me!" She hung up the phone, and gave Bakura a final look. "Are you absolutely sure?" she asked. Bakura nodded.

"Go be with Yugi—as soon as he wakes up, call me, okay?" Tea nodded and gave Bakura a final grateful smile.

"Thank you," she said as she lifted her purse onto her shoulder and put the chair back under the desk. Bakura smiled at her again.

"Thank you for looking after me," he replied. She left the room, and Bakura listened for the sound of the front door opening and closing. As soon as it did, he fell backwards against his pillows, his eyes closed.

He was tired. That was the first thing he noticed. He was as tired as death, and his eyes were sore. His body felt a stiff as well, but that was usual when people woke up. He could still feel healing bruises Yami Bakura had left without explanation, the general wash of weakness that had suffused him since the spirit had become more active. He still couldn't remember anything since the scuffle in the hallway, but everything else seemed in place. What had happened?

He felt a presence in his mind, and his body froze with terror. The spirit dwelling in the Millennium Ring was active. Was he going to try and control Bakura's body now? But he was so tired… If Yami Bakura tried to do anything, he might actually kill Bakura this time. But the presence didn't grow, didn't try to push him away. And it didn't feel like Yami Bakura either. What was going on?

_Who are you?_ the presence asked. Bakura's eyes shot open in shock. He recognized this voice, though he couldn't think from where. But one thing was certain—it was definitely _not_ the spirit who had called himself the Yami Bakura.

"Wh-who are you?" he asked in return. He felt a bolt of surprise from the presence.

_Bakura!_ it shouted. Bakura became even more confused—he _knew_ that he knew that voice from somewhere.

"Who are you? What happened to the spirit of the Millennium Ring?" he asked, frightened. What was going on?! He could feel the presence's own fear and confusion and surprise. It was so different from Yami Bakura—Yami Bakura always seemed calm, and when he did show emotions—like anger, especially—they were always very intense, very there. The emotions of this presence were also there, but muted, like looking at something through a window sheer.

_I… How can this be?_ the presence wondered, so lost in his own thought that he ignored Bakura's questions. _Why am I with Bakura? Where is Yugi?_ Bakura's eyes widened with shock and realization.

"You're… you're the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle!" He could feel the presence's agreement through the connection of their souls.

_Yes_, the spirit said, _though it would seem I am no longer the inhabitant of the Millennium Puzzle. _Bakura put his hands over his face, trying to steady himself from his reeling mind. How could that spirit be here? Where was the spirit he was familiar with?

"What do you mean?"

_I am not with Yugi. I am with you. I cannot feel Yugi, and the only Room of Mind I can see is yours. But you are the bearer of the Millennium Ring, not the Millennium Puzzle. Which means..._ There was a pause, and Bakura tried to process it.

"You… you and the Spirit of the Millennium Ring have switched places?" he asked. Again the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzled agreed with him, and Bakura could feel the spirit's worry at this new development as well.

_So it would seem, _he said. _It must have happened when the Spirit of the Millennium Ring and I fought over our items—when he was trying to exorcise me from the puzzle, he must have been using so much energy that it affected up both and threw us both out. And I was using so much of my own power that it returned us both to the Millennium Items—but not into the correct ones._

"Wh-when did this happen?!" Bakura shouted. The spirit explained what had happened; the strange behavior he now knew was caused by Yami Bakura, the shadow game, how Yami Bakura had panicked when it seemed he was going to lose. Bakura felt hollow for a few moments when the spirit told him how he had almost been sent to the shadows, but the fact that he knew how much the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle cared about Yugi—he could feel it in the spirit's voice—as well as how honestly regretful he sounded made the feeling pass quickly. He explained again how Yami Bakura had tried to summon the power of the Millennium Ring to pry the spirit from his puzzle, but he had figured out what was happening quickly enough that he used his own power of placing souls back in their bodies. The two powers had mixed in such a way that they had ended up switchi—

Suddenly something struck the spirit that froze him.

"What's wrong?" Bakura asked, the spirit's horror mingling with his own and making it all the more agonizing.

_If I am here…_ the spirit said slowly, as if trying to reject a cold, hard, terrible truth. It took Bakura a second, but when he got it icy dread filled him just as it had the spirit.

"Then that means Yugi is at the mercy of the Spirit of the Millennium Ring."

It took Yugi a second before he could really rationalize where he was. He remembered being in Bakura's apartment, he remembered Bakura suddenly pulling out the Millennium Ring, and then the shadow game. It had been so close, so frightening. But Yami was winning. Yami was about to win. And then Yami Bakura had cheated, and the two had been on the ground. And then…

He felt uneasiness tug at his stomach. What had happened? Had Yami Bakura been punished for what he'd done? He'd cheated—cheated in the Shadow Realm, and the Shadow Realm did not put up with that sort of thing. Yami had told him so, on the occasions when Yugi had been able to coax it out of him that Yami had played shadow games with others before. Ones he'd started, ones by his rules, with terrible punishments. It was something that he didn't like to talk about, because he'd changed since really getting to know Yugi. But Yugi would always assure him that what happened to those people wasn't entirely Yami's fault—it was their fault for cheating at his game, and their fault for being such terrible people that Yami had challenge them in the first place. Yami never really bought it, and Yugi allowed the conversation to pass as quickly as possible. But if he'd learned one thing from those conversations, it was that you didn't cheat in a Shadow Game.

Yugi was suddenly struck with an amazing loneliness, and it took him a second to realize that it was because he couldn't feel the Pharaoh in the forefront of his mind, seeing if he was alright, or even just being there to be with him. That wasn't right, and he knew it. Yami should have been there.

He felt through his connection towards Yami, but there seemed to be something blocking it. Like the spirit at the other end had knocked the connection away. That wasn't like Yami either. What was going on?!

"No, chicken soup is what you give people when they're sick! Not pizza!"

"Shut up! I'm a hundred times smarter thank you, don't ya think I'd know?! Believe me, nothin' gets you back on yer feet like a good ol' pizza!"

"Joey, you really are an idiot!"

Yugi could hear his friends arguing down the stairs and down the hall in the kitchen, where his grandfather was most likely laughing at them. He wondered why they were there, but he had already come to terms with the fact that things had happened after he had blacked out, and all would be explained at one point. Surely Yami knew.

He felt for the Pharaoh again, and this time he could feel the spirit in his Millennium Puzzle.

Terror welled in him. What he had felt _hadn't_ been the Pharaoh. There wasn't any doubt in his mind. What he had felt had been powerful, evil, malicious. It wanted blood, pain, and misery. That was _not_ the Pharaoh.

_Well, well. Look who's up. Good morning, little host_, the unmistakeable voice of the Spirit of the Millennium Ring came. Yugi jerked violently and Yami Bakura laughed. _Surprised?_

_W-what are you… Why are you here?! _Yugi shouted. Yami Bakura laughed.

_Blame your precious Pharaoh for that, little Yugi. It would seem that his ability to put souls back and my power to rip souls out reacted in a most interesting way—both worked, but neither was canceled. I know you're not terribly intelligent, so I'll say it more bluntly—we've switched items. _ He laughed darkly. _Which means that we've apparently also switched hosts. Aren't you excited, Yugi? _He laughed again and Yugi felt both fear and anger shoot through him.

_That can't be true! _he shouted. Even though, at the moment, he was only a voice in the back of Yugi's head, he could still tell that Yami Bakura shrugged.

_Believe what you will, little Yugi, but I'm here._ Yugi felt cold. Yami Bakura?! The Pharaoh had been replaced by Yami Bakura?! It was the stuff of nightmares. Yami Bakura had proven himself to be an entity of evil, and that was something Yugi wanted nothing to do with.

Yugi felt Yami Bakura doing… _something…_ and an automatic reflex told him that it was bad. He instinctively tried to stop Yami Bakura, using all of his energy to do it. He realized that he was, metaphorically speaking, pushing closed the lid to a box filled with… He blinked in surprise. His memories. What did Yami Bakura want with those?

_Now, now, Yugi. You'll only make things harder. Now really. Let me see those memories of yours. All I need is the location of the God Card, after all._ This perked Yugi's interest, and for a second he lost control of the memories. Images of his childhood swirled before his eyes, of his parents, of playing games with his Grandfather. All in less than a fraction of a second. He clamped down on the memories again, noticing how Yami Bakura's pull got stronger and stronger, how he had to use more and more energy to keep the box shut. He wanted to ask why Yami Bakura needed the God Card—how he even _knew_ of its existence—but he couldn't take away any of his focus from the box of his memories. He realized that Yami Bakura could read them at any time when he wasn't resisting like this, could gather everything in a second. And he didn't know why he fought so hard, but he did.

He knew only one thing—if Yami Bakura wanted the Egyptian God Card, he'd have to do everything in his power to keep it out of his hands.

He acted again on instinct.

Yami Bakura cursed loudly as both Yugi's consciousness and his memories vanished into the boy's Room of Mind. Clever. Damn clever kid. If Yugi "locked" the door behind him, no matter what Yami Bakura did he wouldn't be able to get in. He couldn't see Yugi's memories. But in return, Yugi was stuck there. He couldn't leave, because the moment he did the memories would flow freely and in an instant Yami Bakura would know exactly where the God Card was, would know everything that Yugi had ever known. As well, the only way Yugi could be aware of what was going on outside of his body—and even inside of his body, for that matter—was to leave the room, or even to peek out of the door for a fraction of a second. But that would still be enough. The closing of that door had been like an air-tight seal. But Yami Bakura could slither through the smallest opening, the briefest breach. The very instant that door opened he would be in Yugi's Room of Mind, and nothing Yugi could hope to do could stop him.

He needed that card to give to Marik; although a little skewed, now, the deal was still basically the same—Yami Bakura handed Marik the God Card, and in return Marik would give him his Millennium Rod. And it wouldn't be too difficult to also demand that Marik use his minions and resources to return the Millennium Ring to him, as well. He was surprised how much that pleased him—it was different than how he felt about the Puzzle. To his surprise there was a little bit of nostalgia in the thought—it seemed he had grown somewhat attached to the Ring.

How disgustingly sentimental.

Yami Bakura took full control of Yugi's body, resolving himself to this control. It was better with Yugi out of the way anyway; no one to argue with, he could act however he wanted with impunity. Not that Yugi's presence would have stopped anything anyway.

He got up and locked the door to Yugi's room, keeping those idiots that called Yugi their friend out. The first thing he noticed with his new body was that it was disgustingly short. Bakura was somewhat tall at 5' 9", and Yugi was a good eight inches shorter than him. He felt like someone had cut his legs off from the knees down and told him to hop around. He also noticed that Yugi was in much better condition than Bakura—not surprising, the way the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle treated his host like an expensive collector's object. Still, though, he'd prefer the scraggly British boy who was threatening to fall apart over being this damned small.

He walked towards the window and started to slide it up, looking out over the road. He'd have to tell Marik the new change in plans, before he came across Yami Bakura's old host and said something stupid. But suddenly the sounds of Yugi's friends came from the other side of the door, the blonde one Yami Bakura faintly remembered was Johnny shouting at the the one whose hair made him look like a unicorn to open the door, which was met with a reply of "open it yourself", which was met with an angry, "I'm holdin' a tray a food here!"

Yami Bakura considered the window for a second, then closed it again and unlocked the door. He could foresee a very long time in Yugi's body, and until both the Pharaoh and his pesky original host were out of the picture, he imagined things would be easier if he acted the part his body had set up for him. He'd already made the decision to switch permanently from Bakura to Yugi—reincarnation or not, his original host had been a weak body with a weaker mind and even fewer resources or connections. Yugi might have some kind of developmental issue, but he was also reasonably famous, which Yami Bakura could put to _very_ good use.

He climbed back under the blankets and pretended to be just waking up.

The door opened and Yami Bakura watched with hooded eyes as Johnny walked in, balancing a green plastic tray in his hands—really, how did you balance something that was flat and you were holding with two hands?—a bowl of something which gave off steam resting on it. Next to it was a glass of water, and for a second Yami Bakura was impressed that it wasn't full of brandy. Also disappointed.

"Yug!" the blonde cried out, nearly dropping the tray. Next to him was the other friend. They both looked ecstatic to see Yugi's eyes were open.

Idiots.

"Yugi, you're awake!" the one that wasn't Johnny shouted. Yami Bakura remembered that he—Tristan, that was his name—had been the one who had punched him back on Duelist Kingdom. He filed that away for later. That would hurt when it came back around.

He thought for a moment, trying to decide where he was, who he was, how he was, and what had happened. You had to consider all sides of your character in order to act. Or lie with any sort of believability.

"Why are you so surprised?" he asked, his voice small and worried. He managed to keep his scowl only inside his head, but it was an effort. He was tired of acting small and meek—he wanted to strut and win and stab things.

"Nah, just happy," Johnny said, smiling and sitting on the edge of Yugi's bed. For a second Yami Bakura's indignation flared up, but he forced it down.

"Um… I like seeing you guys first thing in the morning too," he said, trying to sound cheerful. The idiots flashed each other a look, and he pretended Yugi was intelligent enough to catch it. "What?"

"Well… it's not…" Tristan started. He looked at the blonde pleadingly. "Um… Joey?" The blonde's eyebrows crawled up his head.

"Me?! Ya little— I er… I mean," Joey started again. "It's the middle of the day, Yug." "Yugi" opened his eyes in shock.

"What?!" he cried, trying to sound confused. "But when I came here to Bakura's house it was just after school had… end… ed…" He trailed off, looking around. "This… isn't Bakura's house." Yami Bakura nearly wanted to wring his own neck. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was stupid people. And he was acting about as stupid as he could stand.

Joey smiled sheepishly and looked around the room.

"Nah… When we found you unconscious on the floor—"

"What?!" Joey's hand inched up for his forehead for a second, but Yami Bakura could tell he was stopping himself.

"Well… Tristan finished his tupperware thing early, there was an emergency staff meetin' so my third set of detentions was postponed 'til later, and Tea got off work early because of a fire in the kitchens, so we decided we would surprise ya guys and show up at Bakura's and hang out, too. But when we got there, the door was unlocked and you guys were on the floor, unconscious, with monster cards all over 'e place! We're guessin' a Rare Hunter attacked you guys, am I right?" A Rare Hunter? Those guys couldn't even open a can of tuna correctly.

"My… my memories are kind of hazy, but I think…" Yami Bakura put his head in his hands. "I think you're right." Gah.

He could tell that this answer gave Joey a guilty joy.

"I knew it! I mean, that totally sucks, Yug! You could've been lost to the shadows forever!" he insisted. It both irritated and amused Yami Bakura that Joey was closer than he thought. Yami Bakura very nearly _had_ managed to lose Yugi to the shadows forever.

"My cards!" he cried out instead. Tristan handed Yugi an immense deck of cards that was very obviously larger than it had been.

"I gathered 'em all up, Yugi," he said, sounding terribly proud of himself. "I figured you could separate your deck from Bakura's when you woke up." Oh bloody hell. Even when they were trying to help they were nothing but nuisances. Yami Bakura finally understood the saying: "With friends like these who needs enemies?" He'd never really been one for friends, not since all the ones he'd had had been tossed into a pit.

He affected a face of absolute gratitude and hugged the cards to his chest.

"Thank you so much!" He hoped his "bright smile" didn't look too much like a grimace.

"Did they get your Egyptian God Card?" Tristan asked. Yami Bakura shook his head with enormous, overly-exaggerated movements. He couldn't wait until these two idiots were gone and he could think straight again.

"No… I don't carry it with me," he answered. This he knew for a fact—the gods only knew he had spied on Yugi so many times it had nearly lost all of its humor; except to Marik, who found it more and more amusing with every occurrence that happened. Bastard. He knew the card was kept somewhere in Yugi's room, but he couldn't imagine where. He'd cased it—and the whole house—many times; broken in, looked around, torn things apart—the Mutou's suspected break-in-and-robbery a week ago had actually been him—and still had had no luck.

He gazed at his friends with wide eyes, pretending he'd just realized something.

"What if he came here and took it?!" he asked, terrified. This statement actually made the two of them laugh, and Yami Bakura nearly wanted to kill them for their insolence.

"Fat… chance of… that… Yug," Joey said between panting gasps. Tristan was laughing too hard to breathe. "No one… knows where that card is… 'cept you…" He laughed again. Honestly, Yami Bakura didn't see what was so damn funny, but he ignored it. "I suppose the other Yugi knows where it is, too," he said after a moment, finally getting his breath back. A flash of anger shot up Yami Bakura's spine, but he managed to keep it from showing.

"I guess you're right," he said, cracking a smile that really did feel like his skin cracking. Why did everything he did in Yugi's body hurt so much more than in the weak body of his original host? Here every false expression, every twitch of the mask made him disgusted with himself. Why was that? He mentally shook his head and ignored it; he'd get used to this body in time.

He yawned, and the two's laughter faded away into happy smiles.

"I'm tired," he said, though his body language should have sold it. "I'm feeling alright, so you guys can go home—you both look like you haven't left since you found me." They both laughed sheepishly, which was as good as a, _you called it_.

"Are you alright? I made you pizza soup!" Joey added, holding up the bowl. Yami Bakura took it very gently, holding the bowl by his fingertips. He had a very hard time holding down the bile.

"That sounds like something, Joey," he said, making his voice a touch wry. He leaned over and rested the bowl in an empty spot on his side table, where he resolved he would get rid of it as soon as "his friends" left so as to avoid radiation poisoning. "But really, I'm pretty tired. I'll see you guys at school tomorrow, okay?" Joey looked at the door for a second, then turned back to Yami Bakura. He sighed.

"I had wanted to make it a surprise, but Tea's on her way, Yug. Don't you think you could stay up long enough just to see her?" he asked, putting his hands together pleadingly.

_Absolutely not_, he thought angrily. _I have no desire to deal with any of you any longer._

He blinked owlishly, his eyelids fluttering like a pair of dying blinds. He swayed slightly as well, trying to make it look authentic.

"I'm sorry," he said, starting to sink against his pillow. "I'm just… really tired…" He settled on his pillow and tucked his head to his shoulder, pretending to have drifted off just like that. He wondered if he'd been too abrupt, if they wouldn't buy it—but they were really just as stupid as they looked, and Yami Bakura could feel their weight leave his bed. There was no accompanying noise, so he knew that he had sold it. Poorly, but why act well when your audience couldn't tell the difference between a kindergarten musical and a Broadway show?

The door closed, and Yami Bakura was on his feet immediately, locking the door behind the two. He would go and discuss the new plans with Marik as soon as the sun set in a couple of hours and he wouldn't be too missed. Until then he would stay in this room and try to get used to this new tiny but potential-filled body.


	7. Chapter 6: Breaking In New Quarters

**QUICK BUT IMPORTANT NOTE: **_**COULD SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO INCLUDE BREAKS ON ? I KEEP ADDING SHORT STRINGS OF ASTERISKS OR LONG STRINGS OF THE DASHES AND UNDERSCORES IN MY WRITING TO SHOW WHERE THINGS BREAK, BUT KEEPS ERASING THEM. IT'S FRUSTRATING BECAUSE FIRST IT CONFUSES YOU GUYS, AND SECOND IT MAKES ME LOOK LIKE AN AMATEUR WRITER. IF SOMEONE COULD PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THIS DAMN SITE WILL ACTUALLY ALLOW, I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IT. I HATE TO ASK LIKE THIS, BUT I'M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS SITE MAKING IT LOOK LIKE I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING**_

Lots of good news! First, here's HOSTage.0 Chapter 6, sorry it's late! Second, with this we are officially past ALL REVAMPS, meaning everything from here on out is completely new! Hot damn! And with this new material, it means that I've also officially retired the original HOSTage—not that it was still live or anything. I'm leaving it up here on because I'm sentimental, but please, PLEASE don't read it. It's horrible. You've already read this slightly-less-awful version, right? OTL|||

And in my last piece of news, I actually have a Yu-Gi-Oh! Tumblr—and YGO! Exclusive. The URL is Yugiouji—I'll be posting all my fan-fiction chapters up there (and still here, don't worry) along with reblogging cool posts and making other… comments…. I don't know, what do you do with your Tumblr?

IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY AT ALL, PLEASE DO REVIEW! It's discouraging to spend time and effort working on something and thinking no one really cares, you know?

Alright, I hope you like the chapter! Thank you for reading! (Next chapter, VIOLENCE *_*)

~Atakiri

Chapter 6 -_-_- Breaking In New Quarters

Yugi sat in his Room of Mind, surrounded by toys and games. And an oppressive feeling of loneliness. He'd been in the Room of his Mind before, just sitting there, thinking, or trying to avoid having to feel or think about anything. But he'd always been able to come out whenever he wanted, and he could always trust his body to Yami and trust in what Yami was doing. He'd never realized, before how… _small_ it was. How the air became so stale so quickly.

Somewhere deep down he knew the room was as large as it always was, that it was of an average size and not really that small at all. But being trapped in one spot… with nothing to do, no way to help himself…

He brought his knees up and rested his chin on them. He was feeling more alone than he ever had before. He couldn't talk to his friends, couldn't even see how they were doing, and to not even have Yami… He felt his throat close and huddled down even further.

He had always known Yami was his _closest_ friend—after all Yami lived _inside_ him, and you can't get much closer than that—but he had never really realized just how much Yami actually meant to him. He'd been his best friend, the person he could always rely on and talk to. Yami would always be there for him. He'd believed that so much. Sure… sometimes it would make him feel sad and useless always having to rely on Yami; …at night, when he couldn't sleep, and when Yami was buried deep in his mind, and everything was so quiet and he couldn't help but listen to his worst thoughts, when he'd think over the things he couldn't stand to think during the day, couldn't stand to think around his friends… How he was so weak… and scared… and he would never be able to stand on his own without Yami beside him.

He shook his head violently. This was exactly what he was talking about. With nothing to do, the worst thoughts in his mind came to the surface. He needed to find something else to think about.

He looked around the room again, but it hadn't changed since five seconds ago.

This was crazy. He was going to go insane in here. He could feel time moving, that he had hidden here in this Room about twenty minutes ago. But that didn't help him much—he had no idea what time twenty minutes ago had _been_. Maybe he would have been able to come up with some sort of plan if he knew that he had woken up at 3:15 p.m. on Sunday—which he was pretty sure he hadn't—or something like that, but he didn't know anything at all.

For a moment the whirling gears in his mind came to a halt.

He was going to make a plan? He realized that he'd already decided that. Sure, if he stayed in his room his memories, and the God Card, would be safe from Yami Bakura. But he couldn't stay here forever. He didn't know—couldn't even _imagine_—what Yami Bakura wanted the God Card for, but Yugi was as resolute as ever that he couldn't have it. But he _couldn't_ stay here forever. It was possible that he'd go so crazy in that little room that he might lose control of himself and open the door out of necessity, letting the memories out and Yami Bakura in. No… he'd have to leave his room, but he'd have to make it count.

The only other person who knew where the God Card was was the Pharaoh, who had helped him find the hiding place. Maybe Yami could grab the God Card before Yami Bakura. But how would Yami know that that was what he needed to do? Neither of them could have possibly imagined that Yami Bakura was still around, let alone that he would show any desire for the Egyptian God Cards. Hadn't he been obsessed with the Millennium Items? No… Yami wouldn't think the card was in any danger, so he wouldn't come to get it.

Speaking of which, where _was_ Yami? Yami Bakura had said that the two Egyptian spirits had traded items; did that mean he was with Bakura? The thought gave him more comfort than he would have expected—that meant Bakura had a friend, that Yami could really help Bakura. Bakura was always so lonely, Yugi knew that, and even though he tried to help, he knew there wasn't really anything he could do if Bakura wouldn't let him in. Yugi understood now that Yami Bakura had been the root of all of his friend's problems, but it was a realization in passing.

Somehow he had to use Yami being in Bakura's body to his advantage. Could he get a message to him? Could he somehow tell Yami to go and save the God Card?

No, that wouldn't work. He'd have to leave the Room for that, and gain control of his body. And he had no idea how strong Yami Bakura was—if he was anywhere as strong as Yami, which Yugi suspected he was, if he didn't want Yugi in control, then Yugi would never move his own body again. But what if that power, if that control, faltered for a second? Could he surprise Yami Bakura and usurp control of his body for a moment to get the message out?

He was suddenly filled with excitement. Yes! That was perfect! That's what he would do—he would rush out of the door, rush into control, and shout his warning to Yami. It would work! But then reality hit.

The moment he opened the door Yami Bakura would have access to the memories. Yugi couldn't check their—_his_—body to make sure that he was in the same room as Yami. He couldn't even be sure Yami was the predominant soul in Bakura's body at the time; if it was Bakura in charge, he would understand the message too late. If Yugi hesitated at the door for even a second, Yami Bakura could swoop down and grab him, taking in the memories and then tossing Yugi back in his room.

And suddenly he realized the plan was incredibly dangerous, incredibly risky. He'd have to gamble all or nothing on good luck. And he also knew that he had made up his mind. He _was_ going to do it. All that mattered now was to get the timing right, and pray to the Egyptian Gods or the Heart of the Cards or whoever else was might have the power to help him that he'd get it right.

Marik walked into his room, which was situated in the bottom of an abandoned building. It was dusty in here, but he was trying not to attract attention. Yet. The glitzy hotels could come later.

He was already removing the deep purple robes of the Rare Hunters, letting it fall to the ground. The stale, dusty air swirled around him, kicking up dust. Dammit—he'd lived his entire life in one tomb, he felt no desire to be in one of a different kind.

Odion would probably, very gently, scold him for abandoning his cloak like that and getting it dirty. He gave it a petulant kick, jettisoning it into a corner with enough force to take even himself by surprise.

"Well well," a voice from the middle of the darkened room said. "I think someone has some repressed anger, don't they, Marik?"

Marik jumped and banged his hand on the light switch, filling the room with light. He was brandishing his Millennium Rod like a knife, but he lowered his arm as his eyes lit on a small body sitting in a chair—which he noticed had been moved—in the middle of the room.

"Yugi?" he asked, confused. He was sure the voice he had heard hadn't been Yugi's—similar, he realized now, but different. Deeper, angrier, dripping with contempt. But the boy sitting in the chair was most certainly Yugi—he was small, dressed in a strange mix of school uniform and leather, and that hair wasn't mistakable.

"Yugi" rolled his eyes at him and shook his head.

"I think the tanning beds have started to melt your mind, Marik," he said, laughing darkly. The hair on the back of Marik's neck stood on end. This didn't sound like Yugi—it sounded like Bakura! "Of course, that would require that one was there in the first place…"

"Who are you?!" Marik shouted, furious. "Why do you sound like Bakura?!" What the hell was going on here?! Why was Yugi speaking with Bakura's voice?! Yugi laughed, and it was a perverted version of Bakura's laugh—Yugi was too small to pull it off entirely correctly.

"Maybe those tanning booths aren't as carcinogenic as people think," the boy chided, and in that moment Marik _knew_ he was Bakura—but how that could possibly be was another question entirely. Wigs were one thing, masks another, but one couldn't use a disguise to make themselves _smaller_. He would have had to pull some real _GATTACA_ shit to pull that off. The impossible Bakura laughed again and Marik felt himself grow angrier.

"What the hell is going on here?!" he demanded. Yugi smirked and pushed himself out of the chair. His hair looked somewhat unkempt—although it was hard to tell with that ridiculous hair style—and his school uniform was rumpled. His voice, his mannerisms, the way he carried himself weren't at all what Marik was familiar with. _This was certainly not Yugi_. What. The. Hell. Was. Going. On. "Why do you look like Yugi?!"

"How do you know Yugi doesn't just look like me?" Marik scowled furiously and his hand tightened painfully around the Millennium Rod. Yugi smirked, all arrogance and victory. "Well, you are correct—it _is_ me in here."

"How," Marik demanded flatly. Yugi—no, Bakura—shrugged nonchalantly.

"Hmm." Bakura glanced at his nails. "How do I put this so that your sun-baked brain doesn't collapse in on itself?" Before Marik could say anything, Bakura continued speaking. His voice had changed, though so subtly Bakura probably hadn't noticed it himself. His tone was flatter—graver. "Five thousand years ago I, like your Pharaoh dearest, had my soul dragged into a Millennium Item. I'm sure that through process of elimination you would have eventually figured it out, but I'll just cut to the chase and save us both your processing time by spoiling the ending for you: for millennia I've dwelt in the Millennium Ring, and rather more recently in the body of the white-haired boy you've seen before. But the Pharaoh and I had a nasty… incident… and it would seem we've traded hosts." Bakura cruelly and lifted his arms to either side. "Quite the gain, wouldn't you say?"

It took Marik a second to understand this—the spirit of the Pharaoh no longer lived in the body of Yugi?

"Where is the Pharaoh now?" he demanded. Bakura arched an eyebrow at him, just a touch disappointed that Marik wasn't more surprised by so abrupt a reveal.

"Does the rebel boy miss his master already?" He smile was thin and cruel and Marik had to choke down a growl. And a lot of curse words. Bakura waved his hand airily before Marik could respond. "He's residing in my prior host. Unless he was lost to the Shadows. Wouldn't that make things easier?"

It would _not_ make things easier, it would ruin _everything_. But Bakura was simply saying things to watch Marik squirm. Marik could see it, and it was the only reason he'd kept the obnoxious man—spirit, apparently—around as long as he had; Bakura personally hated the Pharaoh as much as he did. And that made him worth keeping around.

Bakura was giving him a half-lidded frown of irritation, one eyebrow arched high as he waited for Marik to respond. These arrogant expressions looked so ridiculously out of place on Yugi's face.

"Where is the God Card? I assume you brought it?" Bakura shook his head and waved a finger at him. Marik had to swallow another curse.

"Tsk, tsk, Marik. We're not _talking_ about you right now. I need to make some… adjustments… to our deal." A hint of his old host's accent slipped into his speech—Yugi didn't have the same muscle memory that forced the accent on him, but it had become ingrained in his soul to a degree during the time he'd spent with this new Bakura. He could scour that away soon enough, though.

He glanced again at his fingernails, waiting for Marik's reply.

"What you mean is that you don't have it," Marik shot back, his voice venom. Bakura glanced at Marik through Yugi's golden bangs. Yugi's eyes had never been so cold, and they were glaring at Marik in warning. He wasn't playing right now. "Like what?" Marik continued, his voice harsh but its bite lost for the fact that he was giving in.

Bakura averted his eyes, freeing Marik from the glare and acting as if it had never happened. It was just a blip in the radar, a quick but meaningless shift in reality.

"Like getting me my Ring. Instead of providing me with the Millennium Puzzle and Rod when I complete my end of the deal, and leaving it at that, I want you to get me the Millennium Ring from my host before you kill him." Marik's brows furrowed. There was something inherently wrong with the words "kill him" coming from the mouth of Yugi Mutou.

"You want me to kill the boy?" he repeated. Bakura rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair, slinging one leg over the armrest; on the other he rested his elbow, and put his head in his hand.

"You kill people, don't you?" he asked, his dismissive tone cruel. Marik's teeth clenched. He remembered quite a few faces, some locked in expressions of surprise, others relaxed or smiling—the faces he knew as more than faces. Did he kill people?

Yes.

"Yes, kill him," Bakura continued with a melodramatic sigh. "Slit his throat, shoot him, break him in half. I don't care what you do—he's of no further use to me." He looked at the back of his hand again, considering the skin there. He actually still felt a little odd about the idea of offing his host. He'd dealt a _lot_ with death in his life, and he still wasn't sure what he thought of the unnecessary ones. But a _lot_ of unnecessary death had happened in his life, hadn't it, and keeping the boy, _his_ boy, in a way, around would only cause problems. … Still. "I think Yugi will be much more useful to me and my goals. And besides—when you kill the boy, you'll as good as have killed the Pharaoh, and then no one can stop your nefarious little half-baked plots." He rolled his eyes and shook his head, showing how ridiculous he thought Marik and everything he did.

Marik considered that. He hadn't actually had to be the cause of anyone's death in a long time. Not since the Rare Hunters had become powerful enough that that kind of thing was unnecessary.

"And in return?"

Bakura, exasperated, threw his hands into the air.

"And in return you get your damn precious God Card and to kill the Pharaoh as slowly as you want! What else do you need, you greedy little bastard?!" He forced himself away from anger. Anger wasn't good for business deals. Anger wasn't good for anything but working up the nerve to stab a man in the gut and finding the courage it took to live without living for five thousand years. Humor was safer. Humor made people _like_ you, even if making people not hate him wasn't particularly high on his priorities.

He grinned, wide and toothy, calm, cool, collected, and cruel.

"You want me to toss in a motorcycle, too? The gods know you collect those things like a girl and her Barbie dolls." He noticed three motorcycles resting against a far wall nearly completely lost in shadow. How had he even gotten those down here? "What's this? Malibu Bicycle and her friends Baby Doctor and Cheerleader?"

"The Vet Motorcycle's coming out soon, only in a Toys R Us near you," Marik replied with equal disdain. "Why don't you go jump on a plane to America and go get one for me? I'll even consider not shooting you down over the Pacific Ocean."

Bakura chuckled and rose to his feet, reaching into his pocket. He was a bit impressed Marik had understood the jibe—modern trends weren't exactly something either of them had much cause to understand.

Marik lowered his Millennium Rod, moving it surreptitiously near his other hand. The better to pull the end off and reveal it for the dagger it was.

But Bakura didn't pull out a knife—it was a cellphone. He flipped it open, idly pushed a couple buttons with his thumb, then held it up like it was a bomb.

"I lost all my contacts when I switched phones," he said, a mocking half-laugh marring his words. "This is my new number. If you want to get ahold of me—and I imagine you will, as I'm your best bet for finishing _any_ of your plans—call me."

Marik barely had time to memorize the numbers before Bakura snapped the phone closed and shoved it in his pocket. Dammit, Marik _hated_ being treated like an incompetent, or worse, a child, but he _did_ need Bakura, and if that meant putting up with abuse when he lost his upperhand, so be it.

He committed the numbers to memory, his eyes losing focus as he concentrated, and when he came back, Bakura was walking towards the door.

Marik stiffened as he approached.

"I'll give you that God Card when you bring me the Puzzle and the boy's head," Bakura said as he shoved past Marik and out of the only door. Marik glared at him as he left, still not entirely sure what to think. The fact that Bakura was a spirit like the Pharaoh disturbed him greatly. There was nothing about that in his scriptures at all. But he knew there was nothing he could do with this fact now, and he'd have to ignore it.

Scowling, he stepped further into the room and slammed the door shut.

Great, now he was going to have to move.

It felt strange having a non-malevolent presence inside of him. Bakura had grown so used to Yami Bakura—his arrogance, his contempt. Yugi's Spirit was nothing like that. He was confident and sure of himself, but not in a way that made Bakura feel smaller; in fact, it made him feel stronger himself, having someone so strong within him. And this spirit was kind and seemed to respect him. It wasn't an admiring respect, but the kind that said, _You're a human being, too, and I'll treat you as one._

Bakura was making his bed. It wasn't a very heroic thing to be doing when his only friend was in danger, but it was something he could do. After all, he _did_ have to get used to the feel of his own body again. The Spirit of the Millennium Ring had been in control for so long that he felt stiff and clumsy.

Though he couldn't really call him the Spirit of the Millennium Ring anymore, could he? Now Yugi's spirit inhabited the Millennium Ring and Bakura's spirit was in the Millennium Puzzle.

That thought made him sick.

_His spirit was with Yugi._

That terrible, cruel, all-controlling spirit was with Yugi. It was too much to even think about. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he knew he had to do _something_. He'd been with the Ring long enough to know that he wouldn't wish it on anyone else, even his worst enemy. Not that being with the Ring would have much effect on Yami Bakura anyway.

But he was so weak, what could he do? What had he _ever_ been able to do? Sit idly by while his friends fell into comas, be shunted to the side while the Spirit tried to turn Yugi and his friends into cards, pretend that he wasn't in constant pain when the Spirit wasn't possessing him. How terribly heroic.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Bakura already knew he had to take the Spirit of the Ring back, even though he didn't want to. But, like making the bed, it was something Bakura could do. Sacrifice himself. Destroy his own future and happiness in order to make sure it didn't happen to anyone else. He was weak, but he could do that.

If he'd been aware he was thinking these things he would have been so proud of himself.

He tried to lift a pitcher of water Tea had put on his bedside table, but barely got it an inch or so up before it was too heavy for him and he had to put it down. He could feel Yugi's Spirit's disapproval.

_Bakura, why have you been so tired?_ he asked him. It was strange hearing the Spirit talk to him from within his mind—usually his own Spirit would be using Bakura's mouth to speak to him aloud. _Your body and soul are both exhausted. Is this the fault of the Spirit of the Millennium Ring?_ Bakura sighed and slumped to the ground, relaxing his tired body. He'd been up for fifteen minutes and wanted to go to sleep again.

"Yes…" he admitted, staring at the ground. "He's been pushing my body to its limits. I don't know why… or even what for. I'm okay though." He could feel the spirit's disapproval just like the spirit could feel that he was lying.

Bakura shuffled out of his room and through the central room of the apartment to the kitchen. If he couldn't lift the pitcher, maybe he could at least support a cup under the faucet. It felt strange not to have another active presence inside of him—what was he supposed to do? He hadn't had this much control in months. It felt strange. And almost… empty, in a way. The world was too big, now, too full of potentialities. How unnerving.

_What has he been doing to you?_ the spirit asked, clearly unsettled by Bakura's thoughts. Bakura shook his head, but instead of consoling the spirit, he made himself dizzy. He managed to orient himself before he lurched, but the spirit had certainly felt it, and his disapproval was like a seething wall of water. _This is unacceptable. I had no idea your situation was so poor. I had no idea it could _be_ this bad._

"I'm alright, really," Bakura insisted. He glanced around the kitchen and started reaching for a glass—it was up on one of the highest shelves, a poor decision he had made when he'd moved in and never bothered to rectify. He had to stand on his tiptoes to get his fingertips on one, and from there it was a simple matter of well-applied force to get the glass to tumble into his fingers.

_Where are your parents?_ The spirit was clearly still unhappy about Bakura's situation, but he would let it be—for now. He didn't want to push Bakura too hard, and Bakura appreciated it. _I know that you used to have to move quite a bit, because of what would happen when you played Monster World with your friends. _Bakura appreciated how delicately he worded that. _But nothing has happened in over a year. You're too young to be living on your own. You're Yugi's age, correct? That would make you only sixteen._

"My father's an archaeologist," Bakura explained, leaning over to the tap and letting it run for a couple of moments to get to the cooler water. "He spends most of his time wandering around the world, looking for ancient artifacts. It was while he was on a dig that he found the Millennium Ring, years ago." He paused, and neither of them said anything. Neither of them missed the tension, either. "My mother and little sister died in a car crash when I was small." He swirled the water in his glass a couple times before he took a sip. Just the water made his stomach turn. Bakura didn't understand it—the Spirit of the Millennium Ring was usually more careful than this. Even if he had more strength than Bakura when he was in charge of the body, he still needed to keep it in working condition or all the strength of his soul wouldn't do them anything. "I'm alright on my own," he added quickly. He didn't want the spirit dwelling on his lack of family, which he could feel him doing. The spirit took the hint.

_It doesn't seem right for your father to just leave you here like this_, the spirit insisted. Bakura shrugged and sipped again from his glass. His stomach had settled now, but he hadn't realized how sore his throat was until he'd had something to soothe it.

"It's alright," he insisted quietly. The spirit could feel Bakura wanted to say more, but Bakura himself didn't know what to add to that. "It works out okay. He sends me money, so I can buy food and pay the rent without getting a job. He even sends me extra sometimes so I can buy my Monster World figures." The spirit shifted restlessly in the back of Bakura's mind. But what could he do? The disapproval of a five-thousand-years-dead Pharaoh could only affect the life of a sixteen year-old boy living in Japan so much.

"Do you have a name?" Bakura asked, his desire to change the subject evident even without their connection. The spirit didn't answer for a moment, shifting restlessly.

_… Once, perhaps, _he replied. Bakura didn't understand, and he let that confusion go through their connection. He'd used this connection with his own spirit quite a lot—words the Yami Bakura could shake off, but emotions were harder. It was the only thing Bakura could sometimes do against him, transmitting his anger and pain and misery. He quickly hid those thoughts away, but his new spirit hadn't seemed to notice them, preoccupied as he was with his own. _Many of my memories of my past have been lost. I only know that I was a Pharaoh, and some call me that. As well, sometimes I have been referred to as the Yami Yugi, just like the spirit of your Millennium Ring referred to himself as the Yami Bakura. … Although it was never my name, _he admitted slowly, _sometimes… Yugi would call me "Yami"._ The admission came with a bit of embarrassment, and fondness, and a dull ache Bakura recognized immediately as what you felt when you missed someone.

"May I call you Yami, then?" he asked. It seemed a bit bold, but Bakura knew what it was like to miss someone, and miss the name they had for you. He still jumped if he heard a little girl shout "Onii-san!" near him. The spirit tried to answer, but seemed to trip over his words. Instead, just a feeling of approval came through the connection.

The conversation lulled, but Bakura didn't mind. Actually, it was rather comfortable. The spirit was still working out his feelings, and Bakura didn't know what, if anything, to ask him. Besides, he still had to get used to his body again—and he was realizing that he was hungry.

He scoured the kitchen as best he could for food. He couldn't reach the highest cabinets—he'd managed to get the glass alright, but it made him feel ill to raise his arms above his head for too long, and if he couldn't do that, he certainly didn't have the energy to climb on top of the counters. There wasn't much at all—Yami Bakura really had been more careless than usual. He managed to scrounge up a dry packet of miso soup powder with dehydrated tofu pieces, though, so that was something. He set his kettle to boil and leaned against the counter.

The spirit—Yami—was brooding to himself, thinking over Yugi. He was even more worried about Yugi than Bakura was. It made sense, though—maybe Yami didn't understand the Spirit of the Millennium Ring as well as Bakura did, but neither did Bakura understand Yugi as well as Yami did. He thought Yugi would be okay, though. The Spirit of the Millennium Ring was powerful, and it was cruel, but Yugi was strong—much stronger than Bakura. He would be able to handle the spirit of the Ring better than he had.

He thought about when he had received the Ring from his father, only a few years after they had moved to Japan, and only a year after he had lost his mother and sister. It had seemed like a blessing, at first. He missed his mother, he missed Amane, he missed England, he missed his father, and this was at least some way to be with his family. He had been a bit more right about that than he'd thought, though—if one's "former self" was considered family.

Yami Bakura had let that slip, once, without entirely realizing it during their very rare conversations. They were always short, and ended with the Spirit of the Millennium Ring snapping at Bakura for something or other. Bakura had seen the dark spirit keep his cool in the face of overwhelming danger and stinging insults, but for whatever reason Bakura could say just about anything and set him off. He never got violent, though. But his words could cut deeper than his nails, and he didn't seem to have entirely realized it.

The water had boiled, and he poured over the powder and stirred it, letting his thoughts wander away like the steam coming up from his bowl. Somehow or other his thoughts wandered to England—they often did when he did something especially Japanese, though it had lessened over the years. He wondered what his old elementary school friends would have thought if they saw him drinking soup for breakfast.

The spirit stirred in the back of his mind. He could only take so much of his own brooding, after all. Bakura understood that feeling. Yami seemed aware of his last thoughts, as well, which Bakura wasn't surprised about—he hadn't been trying to hide them, and a lot was communicated unconsciously when you had a connection like a spirit and its host did. He'd given up completely on shielding his thoughts long ago—Yami Bakura usually didn't care what Bakura thought about, and if he did, he could rip through Bakura's feeble shields with ease.

_Why are you in Japan?_ the spirit asked, his voice politely curious. Bakura took a sip of his miso soup, careful not to burn himself. He was somewhat surprised at all the questions. The Spirit of the Millennium Ring had never been all that curious about him, except for the first couple of times they came into contact with each other, and not very many other people spoke to him. But he didn't mind. _Yugi explained to me that you come from a small island far to the West of here, a place called England. Is that correct?_

"It is," he agreed. He was quietly amused that the Pharaoh seemed so confused over the idea of "England", and Yami was equally confused at his reaction—but he also seemed pleased that it could bring Bakura some kind of happiness. Sharing a mind with this Yami Yugi was very different from Bakura's own spirit, indeed. "I moved from England with my parents when I was quite young. My mother had moved to England for business, where she met my father. After my sister and I were born she wanted to move back to Japan, and my father was happy to oblige." He took another drink of his miso. As it was from a packet, he had to drink it while it was still quite hot and he couldn't taste the cheapness.

_Do you like Japan?_ Bakura could feel that it was a question posed by one outsider to another—or not "outsider", per se, but one person who wasn't a native to another. Normally Bakura would have answered with a, "Of course, very much!", but he took a moment to think about it for Yami.

"I do," he admitted. He was thinking of his class, of Joey and Tristan and Tea—and Yugi. "I've made good friends here. And the people are nice. For the most part. I don't much like the trains." He grimaced, and he could feel Yami's amusement. He smiled a little himself. It felt strange on his face. How sad.

_What was England like?_ Bakura tried to conjure up images and memories—the Eye spinning on the horizon, his old class and classmates, the black taxis moving through the streets between double decker buses. And the space on the subway trains. They were still crowded, but they weren't like the _Japanese_ trains. He tried mostly to capture the _feel_ of that place, because it was that feeling that made it so different from Domino City and the other places in Japan he had been.

There was a very slight vibration through his connection with the spirit, almost like a faint humming. It was pleasure—or approval, Bakura wasn't entirely sure. But it was just a sense of positivity.

_It sounds very interesting_, Yami noted. Bakura grinned again, even though it made his face hurt a little. Usually "interesting" was a throw-away term people used when they were trying not to admit how much they disliked or didn't care about something. But Yami sounded actually "interested". Bakura wondered if he'd be able to visit England again one day, and if he'd be able to bring Yugi and Yami with him. It sounded like fun. Although when he realized that he had envisioned it with Yugi and Yami together, back in their own body, it made his mood falter a bit. The only way to get the two of them back together was to reunite with his own spirit.

He realized that his fingers had been clenching around the Millennium Ring, and he made himself let go. A little too quickly—Yami noticed the movement, and Bakura could feel his confusion and concern.

"There's school tomorrow," Bakura muttered, desperate to keep the subject away from the Ring and his own feelings. He swirled what was left in his bowl in contemplation. He was trying to ignore the spirit at the moment. It had been nice, having someone be worried about him, at first. But it was starting to feel strange. He didn't like being an inconvenience, a burden. He was weak, he knew that, but he wasn't so weak that he had to force his problems on others.

_You should go to sleep,_ the spirit said, not unkindly. He could tell Bakura was getting uncomfortable, and he didn't blame the boy. It was overwhelming for Yami, and he was of a rather remarkable composure. He was used to being a parasite, of sorts, dwelling in a borrowed body. But to suddenly have a stranger invade your personal space… Yami was certainly sympathetic. _And if you are feeling too weak, you should consider not going. You need to rest._

Bakura shook his head, and this time he didn't make himself instantly dizzy. Progress.

"I've missed too much class recently," he said. He put his bowl in the sink—he'd deal with it later—and shuffled towards his bedroom. Sleeping sounded _great_. "And I'll be alright. I'll never get my strength back if I stay cooped up in my room." Besides, he didn't want to fail his classes—he wanted to graduate with the rest of his year. He thought about the classmates in his year and felt his stomach give a sickening turn. "Besides…" he said quietly; Yami listened intently, "… Yugi might be in class tomorrow."

He had no blood to run from his face, but the spirit still paled.

Yugi very well might be in class tomorrow. But he probably wouldn't be Yugi. Not if the Millennium Puzzle hung around his neck.


	8. Chapter 7: Violence

_ Forgive the strange scene breaks—I'm experimenting. I've noticed that strings of non-letter characters won't show up, but if you have text in the line, they will. ( "-_-_-" is deleted if it's on its own line, but when in "Chapter # -_-_- Name" it shows up just fine.) Should worst come to worst, I might have to use the _scenebreakscenebreakscenebreak _etc. It's not particularly aesthetically pleasing, but I'm hoping its monotony and homogeneity will make it blend a little bit better and look more like a decorative line than a line that says "scene break" over and over. XDDD However, it's the only completely fool-proof scene break marker I can think of. I apologize, but if Fanfiction_net is going to be stupid, I have no choice but to make up for its idiocy._

_ I completely admit to having far more fun writing the second half of this chapter than I should have. Finally, violence!_

_~Atakiri_

-_-_- x -_-_-

CHAPTER 7 -_-_-_- Violence

Bakura got ready for school as if it was going to be a normal day. He made sure he had all of his books in his backpack, he put some miso soup that wasn't from a packet in a pot to heat up while he fried himself an egg, and he tucked his Millennium Ring under his jacket where no one could see it.

To say he was anxious would be an understatement. This part of the day usually was. Would he be able to follow what they were saying in class? Would his exhaustion make him too ill to pay attention again? Would Yugi try to pry too much? Would the Spirit of the Millennium Ring usurp his control? One day he had gotten through the morning just fine and simply never returned from lunch. The beginning of the day was when everything was in potential, and anything could happen next.

He slipped the egg from the pan and onto a plate and held his palm over the pot, feeling for steam. It was getting warm, but it wasn't quite ready yet. He fished a glass from the cabinets and held it under the tap.

His anxiety today was a bit different, though. Today he didn't have to worry about the Yami Bakura sliding in under his skin with no warning and less apology. And he was feeling the best that he had in a while, as he'd had the last two days or so to rest. But this would be the first time that he might meet the Spirit that had plagued him for so long face-to-face, or at least in a situation where they weren't in the same body. Yami Bakura would be an external force, and he wasn't entirely sure what that would mean for them, and that was perhaps the worst thing of all.

Yami was in the background, watching, just watching, and sending small streams of reassurance and warmth through their connection. Encouragement. Bakura wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it. He wasn't used to it, for the most part. Usually if he was in control of his body, he had complete control, and he was all alone; Yami Bakura would be back in his Room of Mind, sleeping or resting or brooding or very occasionally sulking. Yami Bakura would only watch him while he was in his classes, making sure Bakura didn't do anything stupid like tell Yugi about them. But Yami was just sitting there, watching, like a guardian angel. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

He ate the egg in a couple of bites and poured the pot into a bowl. He glanced at the clock, but, as ever, he had plenty of time before he had to leave to get to school. He sipped at miso, the heat burning his tongue a little. Yami was concerned at first, but Bakura waved him away. It wasn't that bad, and was almost, in a way that he wouldn't admit, pleasant. If he could feel pain, it meant he was in charge.

When he was done eating he drained his water glass and set it, the bowl, the plate, and the fork in the sink and then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and brush his hair. He examined the dark spots under his eyes—they were extremely dark, of course, especially in contrast to his pale English skin. They were better than usual, though, even if the greening bruises in the corners of his eyes and against the bridge of his nose were a little disconcerting.

Yami hadn't said anything all morning, and he didn't say anything now. Bakura understood. There really wasn't much _to_ say.

He said a quick farewell to the picture of his mother and sister in the living room before slipping his shoes on and exiting the apartment, backpack over his shoulder and keys in his hand. He checked the Millennium Ring to make sure it was properly hidden, as was his habit, and then walked out of his apartment complex.

He spent the walk to the train station, the ride on the train, and the walk to school with one hand unconsciously resting on the Millennium Ring and his mind running over possible scenarios of the day. He hid these thoughts from Yami—he didn't need the spirit worrying about him any more than he already did, especially while he needlessly worried himself into a mess of nerves. He could feel Yami's concern and curiosity, but the Pharaoh didn't try to pry.

The both of them became more alert when Bakura stepped into the school. It was very real, now. They were about to face Yugi again, to face Yami Bakura again, for the first time since their disastrous match in the Shadow Realm. Or they might not. And that almost made it worse.

_Bakura… _Yami started, his voice hesitant. Bakura strode through the high school with determined footsteps. He sent a signal that he was listening. _If you wish for me to take control when we see… him… it would not be cowardly._

Bakura considered that, but he didn't stop walking.

_Thank you for consideration,_ he said after a moment. He took a corner that brought him that much closer to his classroom. _I… I'm going to see what I can do, though. _Yami didn't say anything to that, just sent a sense of acceptance. Bakura fought down a shudder. He was more anxious than he would let on, but he knew Yami was aware of that.

The voices of the students seemed painfully loud as he approached, his hand tightening on the strap of his bag with every step he took. His heart was pounding uncomfortably in his chest, like he'd just been running several miles. He felt pathetic, and he almost would have chuckled at himself if he hadn't been feeling so anxious.

He hesitated outside of the classroom and caught his breath. He needed to calm down. The Yami Bakura wouldn't do anything to him. He never had before, and besides, if he was going to start, it wouldn't be in a public place like this. Bakura was free now, and on his own. And if not quite on his own, then he at least had the Yami Yugi to support him. He felt Yami's agreement and blushed—he hadn't realized Yami was paying attention to his thoughts.

He took another deep breath and walked into the classroom.

It wasn't terribly early, but it was before class, and the room was only about half full. Most of the students were gathered together around the desks of the leaders of their little circles, talking and chatting and laughing. Some Duel Cards flashed as people traded or bragged about their recent acquisitions. Joey, Tristan, and Tea weren't there yet, so there was a ring of space around Yugi's desk.

Yugi was staring right at Bakura, and when their eyes met, Yugi's narrowed, and a grin—thin and cold and all teeth—crawled like a spider up the side of his face.

Bakura's heart stopped, and his entire body stiffened. It was _him_, he was _there_, it was really him, really him in Yugi's body, he was really _right there_. His heart started beating again, but it was painful and uncoordinated and seemed to be drowning him out entirely. He was there, he was there, Yami Bakura was there, he was there, he was right there—

_Bakura…?!_

Yami was suddenly there, instead, pushing him out of the way and taking control of their body. Visibly, the signs of what had happened were very subtle, almost too much so to be noticed. Bakura had stiffened, and then after a moment his back had straightened and his shoulders had moved back, so that he held himself like a king, like a Pharaoh. His hair seemed a touch wilder, too, though no wind had blown to change it.

His brown eyes set in a glare right into Yugi's purple, and Yugi's grin widened. The two stood locked for what felt a terrible long moment until Yugi, grin still in place, glanced down and started playing with the Millennium Puzzle on its chain.

The insult hit home immediately, but Yami tucked away his anger.

_I'm sorry_, he noted to Bakura, hoping his genuine remorse came through. Despite wanting to prove to his partner's friend that he wasn't like the spirit he had so recently escaped, he had still taken control of Bakura's body without permission, even going so far as forcefully shoving him aside.

Bakura, tucked in the back of their mind, just shook his head. Yami might not have admitted it to himself, too desperate as he was to make himself a bad guy, but the way he had pushed Bakura had been much like it was when someone pushed another out of the way of a speeding car.

_No, thank you,_ he said. _Thank you for protecting me._ But that last he kept only to himself.

Yami walked forward to where he remembered Bakura sat. He felt strange, though he tried not to show it. He hadn't been in control of Bakura's body before, and it wasn't used to. Bakura was too big, he was too tall and his arms and legs were too long, the way he wore his uniform jacket closed was constricting, his eyes took in the colors of the world differently, his hair brushed against the back of his neck and over his shoulders and everything was off. But he didn't have the luxury of letting it throw him off balance. He had jumped right into a battlefield, and he had to be ready to fight.

Yami Bakura had made it so when he had the audacity to smile at them like that.

"You seem to be doing well, Bakura," Yami Bakura crooned, too amused at his own personal joke to keep his voice straight. He turned in his desk so that he was looking right at Yami and Bakura, his arms over the back of the seat in an arrogant position that didn't fit Yugi at all. Yami wanted to snap at him for the way he was making Yugi look, but he grit his teeth.

"It's to your betterment that you seem to be as well," Yami replied cooly. Yami Bakura leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. The Millennium Puzzle rested on his legs, slack on its chain. The coldness in his eyes wasn't the only hint that Yugi wasn't himself—his hair was a little wilder, similar to what happened when Yami took control of the body, but more disheveled, and two of the yellow bangs that usually rested near his ears were sticking up to the side, looking a touch like they were wings.

Yami wondered if they had done that themselves or if Yami Bakura was so vain he had felt the need to keep his trademark through the aid of gel and a whole lot of hairspray.

"Where's your little host? Too frightened to come out and play?" Yami Bakura asked. Yami glanced at him.

"He's decided to take a vacation from your bullshit, I'm afraid." Yami Bakura smothered down a laugh.

"You need to watch yourself, Pharaoh," he chided, clearly amused. He waved a finger like a scolding parent. "Bakura is a proper young British gentleman, he doesn't swear, and he doesn't speak so terribly _arrogantly_." There was real bitterness in that last word, bitterness Yami Bakura immediately tried to suppress, but it had been uttered and it was between them now, for the Pharaoh to use as he would.

"Where is my partner?" Yami asked. Yami Bakura tapped the Puzzle with his fingernail, the _clck clck _ made not terribly loud but piercing Yami right through anyway.

"Hidden himself away like the cowardly little boy he is," Yami Bakura said with a patronizing sigh. "He won't play with me at _all_." Although the very obvious fact that Yugi was, for the moment, gone was not a comfortable one for Yami, he still couldn't help the smirk that lifted the corner of his lips.

"He's already tired of your bullshit, too?" Yami Bakura waved his finger at Yami again and arched an eyebrow.

"Do you want to ruin us?" he asked. A shiver of cold went down Yami's spine. It wasn't phrased as such, but he knew it for exactly what it was—a threat. After all, keeping his charade of normalcy didn't really do Yami Bakura much good, did it? It was only a benefit for their hosts, and Yami Bakura didn't care much for Yugi, did he?

Yami bit his tongue. Yami Bakura had won that round.

"Bit of a nasty accident we had though, wasn't it?" Yami Bakura continued, staring unashamedly at Yami as he waited for his reactions. His voice was a touch higher, like he was pretending to be Yugi. "Who ever would have expected that?"

"Mm," Yami agreed dismissively, reaching into Bakura's backpack and pulling out his books. The movement was supposed to be casual, but he realized as he held the textbooks that he actually had no idea which ones they'd need and which ones they wouldn't. "It almost seemed a little incompetently planned, didn't it?" Instead of getting under his skin, it made Yami Bakura snicker.

"Well, we all got out alive, so maybe it was." Yami's eyes flashed back to where Yam Bakura was sitting in Yugi's desk, looking terribly self-satisfied. "But that's a good thing, isn't it?" he asked with mocking innocence, batting Yugi's eyelashes. Yami felt a fierce desire to punch him in his face, but he had to remember that that was really Yugi's face he'd be striking.

"Of course. I don't want anyone to die," Yami said, his voice serious. Yami Bakura rolled his eyes and leaned back in his desk again.

"But where's the excitement in that?" A hint of Bakura's accent came through in his voice, along with a hiss in _excitement_. He didn't seem to notice, though, or if he did he ignored it.

Yami's self-control broke, and he turned in his seat, all of his anger mustered behind Ryou's eyes.

"If you've hurt him, I swear—" Yami Bakura chuckled.

"I haven't touched him, Pharaoh. Doesn't he looked good to you?" He held his hands up to either side. From an outside perspective it would have looked like he was shrugging, but the both of them knew what the gesture really was—Yami Bakura was showing off a trophy. "I need him, you know. Although, of course," he added; he placed his thumb against his teeth, and then after a moment brought his hand away—a small gash bled from the tip of his thumb, and the Pharaoh felt himself stiffen, "we mustn't let that get in the way of him being leverage, can we?"

Yami ground his teeth together and was almost ready to strike him when the teacher walked into the room, already loudly declaring what they would do during class that day. Yami Bakura gave Yami a very pointed look of _you should be paying attention_, then couldn't keep his face straight and broke into a fit of mocking giggles.

Yami had no choice but to sit in his desk properly and to put Yami Bakura and the very real danger he posed Yugi out of his mind.

_I'm sorry that this happened_, a soft voice said in the back of his mind. Yami blinked and reached down his connection with Bakura. He turned out the teacher and visualized sitting beside him, in the hallway that now connected their soul rooms. It was strange seeing a room that wasn't Yugi's from outside his door.

Bakura was sitting in the middle of his doorframe, his knees up near his chest and his chin resting on them. His ankles were crossed and his arms were wrapped tightly around him.

"Bakura, you have nothing to apologize for," Yami insisted, sitting across from him. "None of this is your fault." Bakura buried his forehead against his knees and his arms tightened.

"The Spirit of the Millennium Ring is mine. I can't help but feel responsible for what he does."

"You are not the Spirit of the Millennium Ring, nor is he you," Yami said. His tone was final, and allowed no argument. Bakura didn't move. "What he does is his own will. You are not the one putting Yugi in danger, and it is not your fault that this happened. … I mean it," he added, just in case that might help. Again, Bakura didn't say anything, but he did give a half-hearted nod without raising his head.

Yami checked on what was going on outside of their body without necessarily rising into direct control. The teacher was droning on, the students were taking notes, and Yami Bakura was behind him, so he couldn't see what was happening. He hoped Yugi had stopped bleeding. He wasn't in even the slightest danger with a wound like that, but still.

"I apologize again for taking control when it was not my place to," he noted, once again back completely with Bakura. Bakura looked up at him, his expression torn and confused. "I should have asked your permission. That was incredibly rude of me."

"No, you… you helped me," Bakura admitted. He glanced at his knees again, then forced himself to look up. "I should be thanking you, for shielding me when you could see I was in trouble. I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to face him."

"That isn't something to apologize for." Bakura shrugged half-heartedly. Yami sighed silently. "Would you like your body back? You need only ask, and I will gladly relinquish it to you." Bakura shook his head again.

"I'm not really feeling up for it," he admitted. "I think… I think a little time in here will be good for me."

There was a lot Yami could and wanted to say to that—and Bakura could feel it, because visualizing themselves in their Rooms of Mind didn't change the truth of their connection. But Yami reserved his words and thoughts. He could feel a thin wash of gratitude from Bakura like the washing of a tide upon the shore. He inclined his head to Bakura before returning completely to their body.

Nothing had changed, and the class still carried on. He glanced over his shoulder, where the Yugi that was not Yugi stared at him, smiling when he noticed Yami's gaze upon him.

Yami's fingers tightened, but he was careful not to hurt Bakura with his nails. He had seen what he came to see—Yugi seemed healthy enough, even if his silence was concerning, if not unexpected. He had what he wanted, but he couldn't just leave now, either.

This was going to be a very long day.

-_-_- x -_-_-

There was no guarantee that Yami Bakura would go to Yugi's school. There was no guarantee that he would linger around the campus, would go to class, would sit beside the Pharaoh and Bakura. There was no guarantee that it had really been forty-eight hours, like he thought. It could be three a.m. It could be a week later. There was no guarantee that Yami Bakura would have left the house, no guarantee that he wasn't in the middle of killing someone. He could be in a dark alley, he could be at the bottom of the ocean, he could be in the middle of a fight, he could be tucked into Yugi's own bed.

But Yugi needed him to be in class. Yugi needed Yami Bakura to be in his desk, needed it to be in the middle of class on a regular school day, needed him to saunter in in Yugi's body in front of the Pharaoh, to show it off like a prize. Because Yugi didn't have a choice, and there could be no more waiting.

If he didn't act now, he wouldn't. If he failed, then he failed. But this was it, and he was going to act.

-_-_- x -_-_-

Yami Bakura turned in his chair, ignoring the droning voice of the teacher. He could see his old host's body stiffen—just slightly, but enough to let Yami Bakura know that the pharaoh was paying attention. He chuckled quietly under his breath. The pharaoh used to think he wasn't all that much of a threat, that he wasn't particularly worth noting. Well—he was paying attention now, wasn't he?

"You know…" Yami Bakura started, very quietly, just enough that it would carry to the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes, trying to school his expression out of a glare. Yami Bakura smirked.

And then suddenly he was on his feet, and that was confusing, because _he_ hadn't done that, and he only felt Yugi at the same moment that the brat used their mouth to shout, "_HE'S AFTER THE GOD CARD!_"

The entire class was frozen in shock, staring at Yugi.

And then Bakura and Yugi were both on their feet and dashing out of their desks.

It had taken Yami a moment to process what exactly it was that Yugi had said—it had also taken him a moment to process that that had been _Yugi_, and not the parasite sitting in his soul. But he had figured it out at the exact same time that Yami Bakura had managed to wrestle back control—_Yami Bakura was after the Egyptian God Card, and Yami had to get their first._

They had barely gone two feet, shoulder and shoulder, before Yami Bakura threw himself into Yami, knocking the both of them to the ground. They wrestled and clawed at each other, much like they had in the Shadow Realm. They both needed to be the first person out of the door, the first person back to Yugi's house.

Yami threw Yami Bakura into a desk and scrambled to his feet, dashing towards the door. But Yami Bakura chucked a textbook at him, and it hit him square in the shoulder with an impact like a gunshot and made him stumble forward. He didn't fall, but it was enough that he staggered, and Yami Bakura nearly shot past him. Yami grabbed at the back of Yami Bakura's school uniform and pulled, and both of them went down, crashing into two desks on their way and knocking them over. One landed on Yami Bakura's leg, pinning him, and he swore loudly at the pain.

Yami was already on his feet again and he threw himself towards the front of the classroom. The teacher wouldn't stop him—he looked the most shocked of anyone in the room. But Yami Bakura was already up right behind him, he knew it, he could practically _feel_ it. He raced for the door, but not fast enough—Yami Bakura tackled him again, and the both of them slid along the floor and slammed into the wall.

Yami drew back his hand and punched Yami Bakura square in the face. It was hard, going for the Spirit of the Millennium Ring and knowing that he really struck Yugi, but he couldn't and didn't let that stop him. Yugi was strong enough to take it—and Yami was cold-hearted enough to do it. The back of Yugi's skull slammed into the wall and Yami tried to scramble to his feet during his daze—but Yami Bakura, even if lights were popping in front of his eyes and blood was running from his nose, had better instincts than that, even in a body that wasn't his own. He reached out and grabbed the bottom of Yami's pants, nearly tripping him up and precluding his getaway.

He was on his feet faster than Yami had thought he could, and even though Yami Bakura was now considerably shorter than him, he still managed to get his hands around Yami's neck. He squeezed hard, and Yami barely managed to fight down the coughing his instincts screamed at him to do. He couldn't breathe, and it felt like his throat was going to collapse under the pressure. His knees were already starting to give out.

For a moment he pictured what it would actually look like to their classmates, Yugi standing, bleeding, at the front of the classroom and suffocating his classmate and friend in cold blood. Yami knew he definitely wasn't truly another Yugi, because he found the image amusing.

He kicked out, hard, and hit Yugi's knee. It started to bend the wrong way and Yami Bakura let go of Yami through reflex and a hiss of pain. Yami was back on his feet and running already, even while he coughed and rasped in a desperate attempt to get his breath back.

The two got to the door at the same time.

They punched and kicked at each other even as they squeezed through into the hall. There were faint sounds from the classroom, now—people were waking up from the shock, and a shout Yami recognized immediately as Joey's rang out from the classroom like a peal of thunder. He knew what this would look like—and he knew who Joey would rush to defend. Yami had to get away, _now_, before Joey, trying to defend his best friend, cost them the God Card.

He threw himself at Yami Bakura this time, catching him by surprise. His shoulder slammed right into Yami Bakura's chest, crushing him against the lockers he had been leaning on. Yami Bakura gave a pained cry, and this time Yami knew he really would be dazed. But he didn't wait to check—he turned and ran, as fast and as hard as Bakura's body could manage.

In the back of Yami Bakura's mind, Yugi was laughing at him.

Joey skidded into the hall, cursing himself that he hadn't acted sooner. But what the _hell_ had that been? Yugi suddenly shouting about private matters in class, and then he and Bakura just _turning_ on each other?! Still, though, he could handle violence, and he had the kind of hunch that was always right that something wasn't particularly right with Bakura.

Yugi was leaning against the lockers, swearing and panting and gripping his chest. Bakura was charging down the hall like all the demons of hell were clawing at his heels. Yugi was clearly in a lot of pain, but Joey knew he could handle it. He was about to take after Bakura and drag him back when Yugi seemed to have the same idea.

He grabbed Yugi and pulled him back before he could run off, much to Yugi's discomfort. He let out a stream of curses again that made the hair on the back of Joey's neck stand up. This wasn't Yugi's normal kind of language—but then again, this wasn't a terribly normal situation, either.

"Yug, you can't just charge after him! Yer hurt!" he insisted. He glanced up, but Bakura had already vanished around a corner.

"Th-the Sprit of the Millennium Ring," Yugi panted, still trying to extricate himself from Joey's arms. "H-he's back, and he's after the God Card!"

"What?!" Joey let go of Yugi, and for a moment he looked like he was going to try and run off again, but instead he glanced up at Joey, his look calculating. But it was only there for a moment.

"Bakura has the Millennium Ring again, and the spirit is after the God Card! Come on, we have to stop him! He might give it to Marik!"

This time it was Joey who dashed off, chasing after Bakura. If the Spirit of the Millennium Ring was really back, there was no way they could let him have the God Card!

For a moment Yami Bakura watched him go, then he wiped the blood streaming from his nose on the back of his sleeve and went off on his own way, using Yugi's memories to guide him where he was going.

_scenebreakscenebreakscenebreakscenebreakscenebreak _

Yami threw himself on the front door of the Kame Game Shop. His body was shaking so hard he thought he might fall apart, and each time he gasped for breath it felt like he was scouring pieces of his trachea away with it. Bakura hadn't had the energy or strength for this—but Yami had pushed him to it anyway, and they weren't over yet.

_I'm sorry_, he said, because he didn't think he would be able to get Bakura's body to form audible words. He could feel Bakura's spirit in the background of their shared mind.

_It's alright—we can't let him have this card!_

Yami sent a feeling of gratitude through their connection and fumbled at the door knob. He had explained—not in words, but in inarticulate feelings and images—the importance of the God Cards, the vital role they would play in the protecting of the world, and why it was absolutely critical that Yami Bakura _not get his hands on them_. Bakura had accepted their magic quickly enough—sharing one's body with an acient spirit made one a bit accepting of the supernatural.

Yami had also asked Bakura why the Yami Bakura might be after the God Cards, but he'd had no idea.

"Oh, Bakura!" Solomon Mutou greeted him as he entered the shop. He looked up from the boxes he'd been sorting behind the counter and grinned at him. It slipped away after a moment, though, replaced with a concerned frown. "Don't you have class right now? Are you alright?"

"Yugi—" Yami started, his words more articulate than he'd have guessed. "Yugi asked me to… to pick up somethi—"

He broke off as the sound of voices appeared behind him—Yami Bakura and, apparently, Joey had caught up. He dashed towards the back stairs, startling Solomon.

Yami Bakura and Joey burst into the shop, but it only took Yami Bakura a second to notice Bakura running down the back hall, and he jumped after him, Joey right on his heels and slowly gaining.

Yami climbed up the stairs like he might a ladder, propelling himself with both his arms and his legs. He _had_ to get to his room first—and he had to put enough distance between himself and Joey once he had it so that Joey couldn't beat him into a paste.

And that was a very real danger—Joey, with his athleticism and long legs, had already gotten in front Yami Bakura and was coming after Yami like an attack dog. It was going to be a very tight matter of whether he could actually make it to the room before Joey caught him, let alone if he would manage to shut and lock the door in time.

But he would do it. It wasn't a matter of _if_, because there was no room for _if_. He _had_ to do it. There was simply no other option. "Do or die."

He managed to find a burst of strength and he threw himself at the top of the stairs, shooting like a bolt past the door. He spun around and slammed it closed, right in Joey's face, and scrabbled with the lock even as Joey tried to grab and twist it.

It was a struggle for a moment, and Bakura's heart beat like Yami and his host were in the middle of a horror movie. Then Yami threw Bakura's shoulder into the door—hard—and it very slightly bulged at the impact site, smacking Joey in the face and knocking him back. It wasn't much of a pause, but it was just long enough for Yami to get the lock to click into place, effectively turning the door into a barricade.

He fell back, his body exhausted and racked with tremors, and watched numbly as Joey beat on the door, over and over, unable to get in. He knew he didn't have the luxury of time to just sit there and breathe, but he did it anyway.

It was only a moment before he found the source of the unexpected burst of energy—Bakura had merged his soul with Yami's, just a little bit, like Yami and Yugi often did. It gave their shared body the strength of both souls, but it also meant that both of them felt everything—including the pain.

_Bakura, you don't have to feel this,_ Yami insisted, struggling to his feet. The strain and damage he had put on Bakura's body was his own fault, and he would take it. He didn't need Bakura sharing the pain with him. For one thing it was unnecessary, for another, Bakura couldn't take it. Bakura's body had more strength and energy when Yami was in it because Yami's soul was stronger—right now, Bakura had been beaten down and his strength stripped away. He would regain his full strength someday, but never while Yami Bakura was around.

_I'm fine_, Bakura insisted. Yami couldn't detect any hint of a lie or falsity in Bakura's voice, although he wished he could. He didn't want to cause his host any pain, especially after everything that had happened to the boy. Yami was an uninvited guest in Bakura's body, forced their despite Bakura's will. It wasn't like it was with Yugi, who had welcomed him into his body and his heart. The fact that Bakura was kind to him made the fact that Yami was damaging him all the worse. _If I can help, I want to. I can handle a little pain._

This wasn't a little pain—this was a _lot_ of pain. Yami had pushed Bakura's body to the breaking point, and this was only halfway. They still had to get back to Bakura's apartment after this. Bakura assured him that he knew this. But he didn't retreat.

Joey was still pounding at the door, figuring out how to break it down. Yugi's and Solomon's voices were coming from the other side, Solomon trying to demand what was going on, Yugi both encouraging Joey to break the door down and also trying to get it out of Solomon if there was a second key. Yami found that kind of amusing—apparently the idea of not even having a door for his privacy was unpleasant to the Spirit of the Millennium Ring. He tried to think if there was some way he could _get_ the door to be broken down, then remembered that that _was_ Yugi's property he was trying to damage. For the first time since the scuffle had started, he let himself ache for a moment for his partner. He'd hurt him pretty badly during that scuffle, and he doubted Yami Bakura would be so kind as to take all the pain himself. But Yugi could handle it. He believed it. He _had_ to believe it.

He reached up and tugged a Duel Monsters poster off of the wall, letting it fall to the floor with a rustle. From just about any position in the room it was impossible to see, unless you were at level with it, which would be pretty difficult to manage without knowing what you were doing. But near the top of where the poster had been, underneath it of course, was a narrow rectangle cut into the wall, just wide enough to fit the golden box the pieces of the Millennium Puzzle had been kept in and just deep enough that it was tucked back enough to be kept out of almost all lines of sight.

Yami dragged a chair over and hopped up on it. There was no doubt Yami Bakura could hear the sounds of the hiding place being dismantled, and had figured out where it was already. But that hardly mattered now. It wasn't like Yami or Yugi would use the hiding place again.

When he was in Yugi's body, even with the extra inch or two his soul added, neither he nor his partner could see the box—they had to simply reach up and hook it around their fingers. But at this height he could look right into the niche. The golden box was still sitting there, a slight covering of dust attesting to its lack of disturbance. The Eye of Horus stared back at him, silently judging.

The pounding on the door, which had ceased for a few moments as Joey and "Yugi" talked to Solomon, resumed, more fervent this time. But Yami didn't care—he pulled away the lid and glanced inside. Slifer the Sky Dragon was still sitting at the bottom, scarlet red against the gold. He replaced the top and gripped it in his hands.

It would probably would have been smarter to leave the box behind, but Yami couldn't pull himself to do it. For one thing, transporting the card alone could damage it, badly, especially as he'd left his schoolbag at the school and his uniform had no convenient pockets. But the main reason he was insistent on keeping it, though he was ashamed to admit it, was sheer sentimentality.

The door gave an uncomfortable _crack_ and Yami hopped off the chair. One more solid hit and the door would give. He had to be ready to run when that happened. But like this he was trapped—the door was the only way out, but Solomon, Joey, and Yami Bakura would all be there waiting for him. He was going to have to be really clever to get out of this one.

The door gave with a _crack_ and fell inwards. Yami cringed backwards, but nothing hit him. Joey was standing on the other side, and now that he had his balance back he was about to run in and apprehend the dangerous holder of the Millennium Ring.

"Joey, don't!" Yami ordered. For a moment, even he was surprised at how much his voice had sounded like his own—or rather, as he sounded when speaking through Yugi's body. But if it slightly surprised Yami, it was nothing to how Joey responded—he stiffened like someone had harpooned him through the gut, and he sucked in a breath to match. He looked at "Bakura" with wide eyes, and his eyes flicked up to Bakura's forehead, where the shining Eye of Horus had appeared. Even though he didn't say it, Yami knew what he was thinking: _Pharaoh?_

Yami didn't wait to confirm Joey's suspicions—he darted right by him and into the stairwell, passing Solommon, who looked helplessly confused, and approaching Yugi. He was glaring at Yami Bakura in a way that was very not like Yugi at all, so Yami didn't feel so bad when he suddenly shoved and pushed him down the stairs.

Yami Bakura landed at the bottom before Yami reached the landing, but it was surprisingly easy to jump right over him. Not so easy was the landing—Yami Bakura's arm shot up and caught him by the cuff of his pants, making him crash down, hard.

Yami fought down a curse as he landed on his shoulder, twisting it in the socket. It hadn't dislocated, but if felt like it was close. He managed to keep a hold of the box, though, and that was all that mattered.

Yami Bakura had a hand on it too, now, and he was on top of Yami, struggling to rip the box away from him. The two rolled back and forth, wrestling for the box. Even though he would have loved to let one hand go to rake at Yami Bakura's face, Yami made sure to hold onto the box with all the grip he could muster. They could fight out their differences later—right now it was possession of the box that mattered.

Yami Bakura hadn't quite figured that out, though, and his greed had gotten the better of him—he had one hand wrapped around the box, and the other clawing at Yami's jacket, trying to rip away the Millennium Ring.

He really should have held onto the box tighter.

Solomon Mutou was suddenly there, trying to pull them apart. He of course reached for his grandson, first because they were related but second because he was on top. And Yami Bakura wasn't able to put up much of a fight—his fingers slipped right from the Millennium Ring and the box.

"What is going on here?!" he shouted. But Yami was already scrambling away and had run out of the store. He was near the end of the block when Joey finally gathered himself and ran to the door, catching himself on the door frame. He stared at the dwindling, pale form of Bakura and watched him take a corner, but he didn't move.

Yugi wasn't acting like Yugi and Bakura had spoken to him like he was the Pharaoh. What the hell was going on?

~~~~~~ O ~~~~~

_PS I call it "violence", but it's actually just a bit of a scuffle, with some punching and kicking and some messed up desks. I think I blew the fight scene a bit out of proportion, but seriously, I love me some good fight scenes. XDD_


End file.
